


Beautiful Powerful

by Suchsmallhands



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aristocracy, Design, F/F, Female Harry Styles, Female Liam Payne, Female Louis Tomlinson, Lesbian Sex, Male Niall Horan, Male Zayn Malik, Money, Music, Photography, and, and plenty else, arts school, fashion - Freeform, i guess, or not much else, wlw, women who love women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:44:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suchsmallhands/pseuds/Suchsmallhands
Summary: Harry goes to grad school to finish her degree in photography, in hope of completing her portfolio and getting a job that makes every day worth waking to. Along the way, there presents itself one of life's many bitter humors in surprise, Louis Tomlinson.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot tell what happened or what became of this story, I just wanted to write some lesbians and then... This trashfire. It was accidentally inspired by a real popular fic, no need to name it it's obvious. I'll post the rest when it's done.

_And why do you need to lie_  
_When I look in your super eight eyes_  
_We lay for a minute in the night_  
_It's all lies, lies, lies_

Louis stood across from her at the open doors to the balcony.  
She wore a dress that clung. It stopped above her knees, revealing gleaming skin and feet fitted into gleaming heels.  
Harry sat in her chair, the one that was uncomfortable and vintage. The room was a halo to Louis’ honor, rich and done in to the end with professional finish.  
Louis leaned against the frame of the door, looking out across the grounds as the sun set in front of her. The light streamed in and shocked her body, hot yellow and saturated. Louis’ hair fell in beauty across her forehead in strands, feathering against the corners of her gleaming eyes. The dress she was in was of higher quality than Harry’s entire home, back in Cheshire.  
Harry couldn’t look away. Her tan skin was already hot to the touch, when shone in the sun it set fire to the air around her.  
Harry’s stomach rolled, feeling some strange sharp sense of nausea distantly. She wanted to look away and go back to home, to abandon this place. She wanted to remember what the world looked like, what she did before this. It made more sense.  
Louis lifted a cigarette to her mouth, dragging against the filter. Her narrowed eyes blinked slowly in the light, staring into the sun. Who did that. Who looked directly at the sun; it was either burning steel or self destruction.  
Harry looked at her and swallowed as she drew her cigarette from her mouth, breathing out the smoke.  
_Dragon._  
Harry gripped the armrests, her mind feeling blank and unable to draw away from her.  
Louis looked back at her, over her velvet covered shoulder and straight into Harry’s eyes. Blue fire. She’d known she was being watched, didn’t even hesitate meeting her gaze.  
“Harry.” She drawled, and her mouth moved over the sound like a wave. Her voice drug like a cat’s jagged tongue over Harry, high and rugged.  
Harry felt so stupid and burning in her chair. So stupid. She had a second for her brow to crease, wondering why she felt so inept as Louis looked at her with the sun haloing every move. Even the sun was on her side.  
“Yeah.” Harry breathed, her jeans feeling suffocating over her legs. Her boots felt heavy, holding her feet to the lavishly wooded floor.  
Louis just lifted the cigarette again and drug slow, blowing the smoke towards her.  
_Power._  
She didn’t even say anything, and then men and women were entering the room. They were loud and breaking the iron tie between the two. And they orbited. Like diamond planets around Louis, who welcomed them all and smiled like light of all the diamonds around her put together, handing her cigarette to a man before her who took it in his mouth without thought.  
And she was gliding out of the room on panther’s legs, looking to her with something like adieu, promising to find her again before she could get away and remind herself what it was like to be normal without Louis’ perfume in her lungs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no idea what this was! ha! fair warning

Harry put her camera away, thinking that perhaps she should call her mum before she departed.

Her flat was bigger than she needed, and funded by her photography completely. Grants and scholarships. She went to the bathroom, running a hand through her hair and washing her face. She found her boots, pulling them on. She wore black jeans, tight enough to cut off circulation, and a white shirt that buttoned down the front with a design around her collar.

She couldn’t help feeling a little sick, although she’d been chatted up by Louis Tomlinson more than once in the past month.

She’d been invited to her flat, which sat just outside of the arts campus in a region of expensive homes.

She wasn’t sure why, she said it was for tea. What could tea mean? Was she going to make a move on Harry? What would she do if she did? Would she be able to retain any control? What was tea?

She breathed out heavily, closing her laptop after checking the pictures downloaded on them. She occupied herself with thoughts of new memory cards for her camera. She needed to attend another class, and she’d been invited to show her work at another study.

She put headphones in and tried not to think about where she was going. Intimidating was one word for the flat she was walking to, and the woman inside it. She thought she really should be escaping immediately to a class that she wasn’t even taking, just to take more notes on a course she probably already knew.

The flat loomed ahead of her, the six o’clock sun only making it look bigger and richer than in Harry’s memory.

Up the stairs to the flat and she was knocking on the door with wide hands.

It opened to a wide, pure white smile.

“Harry!” A brunette woman opened the door to her, her nails manicured and polished to perfection and her skin glowing. She looked like she had an extensive skin care routine and perhaps jogged for fun.

“Hello.” Harry smiled politely.

Entering was that of entering a rich lion’s den.

It was a sitting room of sorts, the door to the bedroom open, where sunlight came in through the glass doors to the balcony. Harry knew that much.

What was new was the people lying like sleeping lions in chairs around a table, drinks on the top.

Two men, one with brunette hair that had been dyed blonde before, throwing back a drink. Bright face.

One with dark, naturally dark, hair and facial hair. Long eyelashes, withdrawn face.

Then there was Liam, deep brunette, shiny hair drawn up in a ponytail. She was a host of sorts, a mediator of energy in the room.

Then Louis. The queen of the den. She was the best known of them all and still gave no read. She wore tight… tight jeans around her legs. Jewelry glinted around her fingers, a watch and bracelets around her wrist. A loose fitting shirt which hung over her torso and revealed attractive collar bones and a tattoo. Harry wanted to know.

“Cheers, Harry.” The blonde lifted a crystal glass of pale brown liquid.

“Don’t let her down, Liam, she needs introducing.” Louis smiled, seeing much fun. Liam rolled along.

“This is Niall,” Liam gestured, “Our best drunk.”

Niall cackled, “I’m not a drunk.” He threw back in an accented tone.

“And Zayn.” Liam ignored him endearingly, Zayn waved once.

“And I’m Liam, it’s lovely to meet you.” A warm, welcoming smile.

Harry returned her smile, “Nice to meet you, as well.” She imagined she appeared as rather awkward and wished to know how to appear effortless and sociable.

“Pretty smile, hasn’t she.” Louis grinned, tipping her chin, “So honest.”

“Please act normal, Lou.” Zayn sighed, glancing up languidly from his lounge.

“Normal?” Louis gave him an incredulous look, “I am normal.”

“Certainly.” He hummed.

“When are we getting, on.” Niall lay his head backwards, looking around displeased, “I’m so bored.”

“You’re always bored.” Liam smiled, hands running around her ponytail, making it somehow more sleek and high end.

“Well, if you lot don’t keep me going, I’ll entertain myself somewhere else.” He sighed, lifting his head to look at Louis expectantly.

“We can’t let Niall away, can we?” Louis’ smile widened and somehow it made Harry feel flighty, “Let’s be off.”

“Off…” Harry frowned, confused.

“We’ve got a night to marry.” She rounded the table, gliding smooth. “There’s a party near by, should be fireworks. You’ll come, won’t you?”

She paused within arms reach of her, looking right up into her eyes and Harry felt like she must be perceiving more than was there to this contact. It seemed piercing.

“Sure.” She nodded, her lower voice breaking into more of a rasp, her lips still parted somewhat. Louis beamed. Harry wanted to retract, shake herself. Ridiculously.

The night trailed off into expensive, expensive frivolousness and rich colors, richer fireworks. Harry lost track of every one of them at some point, Louis seemed to appear just when she’d lost her wits, from nowhere. She’d take hold of Harry’s arm and lead her to some other uninvolved place and Harry would trail along while Louis charmed strangers. She seemed always to get what she wanted. Then she was gone again.

\--

Louis invited Harry to a fashion show, not through her own lips, of course, but through Liam.

As well, of course, was she not to simply take the train to the show. But she was to arrive by the provided limousine. Harry was a little befuddled, finding it ridiculous. But she wouldn’t turn her down.

She’d heard about Louis, knew about her major and her interests. She was a grad student, like the rest of them, majoring in business and fashion. So, this was Harry’s opportunity to discover more. And she was bound discover.

Arriving at the scene, she texted Liam, as she was instructed to. Liam appeared at her side, her hair in shining waves with one side pinned back. It was flawless. Liam brought her to her seats, where Niall was leaning back and drinking something shiny while eating a small exotic looking food. Harry couldn’t help the bizarre look she gave him, did everyone here casually exhibit this level of expense?

Harry sat down and spoke with Liam amicably and politely for a time, laughing occasionally at Niall’s input. The seats around them were full but Harry, Liam, and Niall sat in the front row. Reserved seats. She noticed a reserved seat next to her.

“Where is Zayn?” She asked, looking to Liam for answers.

Liam raised her pretty, thick brows at him. She looked of a study in the color of brown.

“Zayn is getting ready to walk, you know.” She smiled, Harry looked back at the empty runway in surprise.

“He’s a model, tonight?”

“Of course.” Liam laughed, “He’s represented by Louis, most of her local clients are walking tonight.”

“Louis represents models?” She frowned, feeling out of her depth.

“She hasn’t told you anything, I see.” She rolled her eyes kindly, “Louis is managing clients. All models, but she does want to branch into music.”

“And Zayn is one of hers?” Liam nodded.

“Zayn is on her agency. But they were sort of friends from meeting, and the modeling came about at the same time. He’s the only one of hers that she is friends with, really.”

“Oh.” Harry hummed. The show was about to start and then Louis was approaching her. She seemed to have eyes locked on Harry, and her own mouth dropped open a bit.

Louis was upon her, wearing a dress that could only be Alexander McQueen, Fall/Winter 2016. Harry’s eyes tripped over it, the things it did to her. It made her look like the sun.

“Harry, love.” Louis smiled, “I’m glad you made it.”

Her eyes shined bright, with minimal make up, somehow the right balance between professional and fashion.

“Hi.” Harry choked, and accepted the hand extended to her. Louis raised her from her seat, her smaller hand commanding Harry in a way that made her feel out of control.

“Come with me, yeah?” She drawled, “I’ve got some work to do.”

“What?” Her stupid, pink bowed mouth still open, “I thought we were going to see Zayn walk?”

“Zayn walk?” Louis grinned at her, “You can see that anytime you like, darling.”

“You don’t need any help do you, Lou?” Liam asked, looking poised to raise up if Louis called.

“No, Lima.” Liam frowned, “I’ll be fine for one night.”

And Louis strode away with Harry in her trail.

“Where are we going?” She hummed lowly.

“To make a deal with some terribly boring aristocrats.” Louis muttered absently, and made her way to a table that looked uncomfortably weighed down with flowers. Louis looked back at Harry, eyes flickering up and down and turned to the flowers.

Harry wore a simple shirt and black jeans under a long overcoat, it had been an expensive gift that she cherished. She wore no make up, never did. And Louis seemed pleased with her.

Louis stuck a small flower into her lapel and Harry looked down at her, frowning.

“What was that?” She laughed gently.

“You look brilliant with that put there.” And she put her arm through Harry’s and made for a dark staircase which wound up to some small balconies. And Harry was a little incoherent for a brief moment over the smell of her perfume which had to be worth half of the scholarship that had given Harry the opportunity to go this school

And they were up on a small balcony, low lit with a small table and chairs filled with some older looking men and women. Louis kept her arm looped through Harry’s, and she herself leaned into her in her rich dress, feeling led and focused on her.

“Miss Geovinchy.” Louis smiled, “Mister Paise.”

“Louis Tomlinson.” They greeted her, standing from their seats and shaking her free hand, which she extracted from Harry’s side and left her feeling like swaying a bit.

“How are you enjoying our work, here.” Louis was the same height as her stiff aristocrats, but only because of the heels she wore. And Harry felt that her height didn’t seem to stifle her ability to exert her will outwards.

“You are very forward, Miss Tomlinson.” Mister Paise gave her an inspecting look which was disbelieving but not unkind as of yet.

“Well, I see no reason to wait around.” She smiled charmingly, “You already know what you think, and I already know what my creators have to give. It would be a bit boring to wait around, wouldn’t it?”

And the others huffed amiably. They made Harry feel like a bleeding woman in a pool of sharks.

And they were talking, the aristocrats and their clothes built around their bodies like symbols of height and armor. And Louis, looking like a young god while her words rolled easy and calm in front of her wit, which won the tiger sharks. They made deals with her.

Harry stayed where she was while their voices numbed her out, too sharp, she watched the models as they glided. They were shiny under the lights, with faces void of warmth but money dripping from them in the form of immaculate threading.

She felt Louis’ arm through hers again, and looked up to find her tiger sharks looking at Harry. She swallowed and felt still and tongue tied, uncomfortable. She felt unlike herself.

“Is this one of your models?” They asked to Louis, and they did not waste their time on smiles. Louis, however, would not be caught as anything but charming, her smile still glittered as a black sun in the low light.

Harry opened her mouth to deny, hesitant in her discomfort, but Louis was not.

“I suppose you’ll know when in our next project.” She hummed, something like a pride in her hand which curled around Harry’s arm.

“I suppose so, Tomlinson.” Hands were shaken. Louis drew her away, Harry followed. Louis’ arm in hers, stronger and concise before, softened and her side became sensitive against her. Harry’s thoughts flowed with manic disconcertion, underneath a slow lethargy and she followed where Louis took her.

In the limousine, where Louis put her, as if tying off every loose end in her orchestrated world, Harry looked down at the flower in her lapel. Her fingers brushed across it’s petals. The textures became filthy.

The street lights moved like grit in her mouth, the incessant sound of the city split threads against her skin, her clean fingers slimed, and behind her lips turned flower mouth.

She reached home and laid down fast, finding control over the lights and the touches. She woke intermittently and worked. She made sure her photos made sense.

\--

Niall became an unexpected constant, and she met him frequently at coffee shops and his flat.

She laughed as Niall sat down at a drum set and hit the heads sharply, biting sounds out of them. He amused her and rattled excited rhythms. She felt the excitement.

“Ace crowd,” Niall grinned at her easy pleasing.

She had coffee with him, he couldn’t be bothered to sit in the café, so they walked. She took lessons from him, Niall was quick with any subject she could present. Behind his apparent lack of interest for anything other than rhythms was an intellect which brought him into this land of money. What kept him at Louis’ side however wasn’t money or intellect, but talent.

Niall’s parents kept an average home, average jobs, and average Irish beer on weekends. Niall himself kept beer on any day, however. His heritage consisted of working class lifestyle, usually comfortable, but there were times when a young boy and his family were careful with their money. Excellence in academics and talent in his passion gave opportunity to great scholarships, which he took an apparent disinterest in. He hardly focused on school, as his auditions were nearly always successful, his priorities were elsewhere.

Harry’s own scholarships were harder worked for, and she often turned to him for help keeping them. Niall treated the work like puzzles, something to make stimulating fun out of.

Sitting in the empty front row seat of the auditorium, she rested her hands on her knees, her long legs bent. The echo of Niall’s mallets on the marimba resonated through the chamber. He held four in his hands, two in each, and his shoulders lowered a bit with a hunch as he played. The control over his sound was visible, but the product, in finality, truthfully showed effortless. There were certain elements that seemed untried for, Niall simply produced the sound, things that shouldn’t just occur. The tiny shifts in the music curled under her skin, and she felt low, sour envy. These were anomalies, exceptions, in the collective. The beauty occurred to him, the brilliance held him up, on the next floor, just out of reach. Regardless of how hard one tried, these were abilities that couldn’t be tried for. They weren’t learned.

It made resentment under the soothing sigh of the music over her. She loved the sound anyway.

\--

Louis sat in the passenger seat of the car. It was vintage, and ridiculous. The color glowed along the side, an expensive vehicle. Harry sat, still out of place, in the driver’s seat where Louis put her. Her wide hands felt good on the leather, thin, ridged steering wheel. They left the windows down, the wind throwing her curls so that they lifted off her shoulders.

Her own smile felt bright in the sunlight as Louis played music from the speakers. She instructed Harry to pull over onto a scenic gravel strip of space to park. Over the edge of the cliff where it dropped, the sun shined over the valley. Harry leaned comfortably against the smooth leather of the seats. She wondered, at the beginning, why Louis insisted that if they were to go Harry would drive, but now she was distracted by the dazzling sun on her skin. Her smile reached her eyes, but it was still the guard smile. The one she kept on at events, at parties. Harry didn’t dwell on it.

“You drive slow.” Louis hummed, her eyes cool.

“Is that so?” Harry snipped, grinning. “You’re not satisfied?”

Louis’ eyes flashed and narrowed, her grin turning more wolf than before.

“Not yet.” She replied.

“Well,” Harry rolled her eyes and gave her an amiable, softer smile. “It’s not my car to be flooring.”

“I say it’s time to get back.” Louis lifted the glittering watch across her wrist, conveniently. “In fact, we’ve only a few minutes. You’ll have to satisfy me.” She smirked.

Harry put it in drive and checked to see the empty road. She thanked god that she drove standard, or rather her parents, and stepped harshly on the gas. The car jerked forward and spun dirt and pebbles, doing horrors on the shiny exterior and the stark black tires, it drug onto the traction of the pavement and shot off. Harry let it climb the gears, let the wind pick up steadily, until she was swinging as quickly as was safe around the bends in the road.

She didn’t need to take her eyes from the road to see Louis’ eyes wide and her mouth open in excitement, hands clutching the window frame and side of her seat.

Her hair was blown beautifully back by the time Harry put it into neutral.

“Satisfied?” Harry drawled, putting her hands in her lap, letting her long fingers lay out over the tight jeans on her thighs. She looked over to the passenger side for the first time since taking off, smiling politely to her debonair. Louis looked at her with wide eyes, hands still in their place where they held onto the car. Her open lips curled into a smile and her pretty teeth lined a new laugh, her chest compressing as she exhaled.

“Fucking hell, Styles.” She breathed, her eyes burning suddenly. “Didn’t know you could drive fast.”

“You like it…” She shrugged.

“I did.” Louis muttered, and that burning quickly identified as lust.

\--

She realized quickly that Louis liked to pull her around on her arm, presenting as a girlfriend. Harry felt strange in her place at her side, socially awkward when Louis was shining like a bad sun and flocking her party guests, other people’s party guests, sponsors for her collection of models and designers, and anyone who was ending up in the comfortable presence of Louis and her expense.

Louis always grinned at her but it wasn’t until she sat with her in Niall’s flat, all of them circled around a video game that they tossed between each other and competed, that she saw her beam. She’d never been at a gathering of this kind of intimacy, among Louis’ friends. Perhaps Louis knows it, because she throws searching looks at Harry repeatedly through the night. It hadn’t been a meeting that she’d orchestrated, all of the times which she called all of her friends, including Harry, she was in control of the atmosphere. It was always beautiful, and always topical. Surface.

She watched Louis cheat in a video game, confused at the casual nature of the situation. It almost seemed like something from her home town, if not offset by the expensive clothes worn by everyone around the circle, with the exception of Zayn.

Louis wore clothes that looked cheap, t-shirts, jeans, but from brands that charged obscene amounts and for things that appeared to be nothing but graphic tees.

Niall, though coming from a background of simplicity, settled into a life of excess easily. He enjoyed Harry, she enjoyed him. He never looked uncomfortable around anyone, she’d seen him interact with a small six year old who repeatedly said nearly insulting things about his clothes, all innocently of course, and he had just cracked laughs and rubbed his face every time the kid said something. Charming indeed. He wore top brand clothes, as usual.

Liam didn’t ever seem to take off the business casual, all expensive and powerful clothing, complementing Louis seamlessly when they went after business endeavors. But her hair was the indicator of leisure. Now it hung low and un tamed down her back and chest. Harry found her attractive like this.

Harry, herself, wore a jumper which hung low around her collar bones, rolled up her strong arms. Her jeans were loose, for once. Clothes from home. She noticed Louis looking at her arm and her collar, eyes inspecting sharp and quick before flitting away just when Harry had the chance to notice. She left her tattoos on display.

Zayn wore a thin jumper over his lean frame, with baggy bottoms that rolled up to his knees. He leaned against Liam a few times in the night. Zayn, Harry saw, didn’t wear expensive clothes like most of them. It wasn’t until she’d seen him gliding down a runway, looking as if he could cut down anyone in his way, that she saw what the threads did on him, or rather what he did to the clothes. They came alive on him well. If he wasn’t on the run way, his clothes always remained low and neutral in color, simple in texture.

Louis burst into laughter and the corner of her eyes crinkled, little folds in the skin as she filled the room. It was like turning on a light.

She’d never seen that before.

\--

The first time Louis pulled Harry into bed was a bullet in the dark. Louis’ hands moved her around the world, pushing and pulling, and Harry moved for her like water propelled in her palms. She’d hated the shocked feeling in her stomach, because she knew that it meant she cared about the sex they were having in the darkness of the night, and it was only the first time. How long had she known her. It was too early, to be having first feelings, hidden in her gut while Louis set fire over them both and never revealed a drop of blood from her heart. Harry knew, with those first twinges of ache, the foreboding of the river of blood she could spill from her own heart. She shoved those thoughts away that night, and made herself into a person who was having casual sex, which left her panting.

In the morning, when she woke alone in the bed, she felt she could hardly remember the full stream of details from the night before. As if a hurricane had rushed through her, leaving her thrown.

She didn’t mention it to Niall, or Zayn, or Liam. And she didn’t bring it up to Louis because she felt that if she did, outside of the moments when Louis brought up sex herself, that she would deny any notion of it. Harry was afraid to see any of the coldness she expected, afraid of the hard look that she’d seen in Louis’ eyes when she believed no one was looking at her. It was that distance, at times, that made her a harsh business manager. Harry didn’t mention anything, not the sex, not the moments of silence she’d sat and watched Louis in, not the champagne and shock-glitter nights thrown away with their friends.

\--

Months passed and Harry tried to cut back on the nights of crazed parties passed between herself and their group. She discovered that the only thing that would truly make Liam relax her perfect poise was Louis. If Louis was partying, not running a fashion industry at her fingertips, then Liam could party. The lengths that she brought her to were extraordinary, and Harry often saw Zayn watching her with his languid eyes as Liam went wild. He had something soft there, something admiring, but she also knew that Zayn didn’t like watching Liam be so reckless. He seemed to worry for her, if she wasn’t drawn up to her full height and conquering the frightening with Louis, then she was expelling all of the strain in wild nights. Zayn was silent in the back, but he saw her. Harry could tell.

Harry sat on the marble seats at the back garden of a library in the campus ground, taking a moment to study and have tea next to Liam. She sat upright, her tanned and hairless legs were exposed from her shorter slacks. She was exhausted, Harry could tell. Her partnership with Louis wasn’t the only thing that occupied her, studies continued as well.

The tiredness today, under the overcast weather, would prove to bring her shoulders sloping and strands of her hair hanging smooth and nicely down around her face. It opened her tongue, to speak freer to Harry.

“He’s into you…” Harry murmured, crossing the line. Liam’s mouth open, her warm eyes losing some of the composure.

“Yes.” They watched Zayn from their seats, where he sat next to the edge of the patio, leaning forward as his pencil sketched quickly. Zayn would be distracted perfectly by the ridiculously abundant and well kept garden for now.

“You like him, don’t you?” Her low voice hummed.

“I… don’t have time.” She murmured. And, while Harry’s primary instinct was to scoff at that, she almost thought there was a fair point to be made there.

“Zayn is amazing,” Liam hummed, “Of course I care. But… you know, he has things to sort out. I suppose. And so do I.”

“Sort out?” She frowned. Zayn was the picture of ease on the runway and most usually off of it, too. Liam looked away from him, then down to her fingers which she thumbed against each other.

“Zayn likes modeling, he’s good… he’s amazing at it. But it’s not… it’s like a treadmill for him, he’s not going anywhere that he wants to go. It’s good, he’s making money. And the industry likes him, but he doesn’t get what he wants out there on the runway. He’s wearing other people's’ clothes… He’s not… making anything. He wants to sing but it’s not right. He’s… he’s holding back, I know. His family has different ideals and he’d be changing a lot. And he’d be giving away himself if he sang, it would be personal instead of modeling where he can be private. I’ve heard something he’s done before it was… brilliant. But he won’t publish them. And Louis would support him on an independent label, if he did, they’re good friends, you know – she’s thought of trying to manage some musicians. And she would make money of it, she’s got connections that… are unbelievable. Zayn has been on her agency since the beginning, they’ve always been close.”

Liam closed her mouth and looked at Harry, smiling bashfully and looking back at Zayn with a blush that meant she’d said more than she’d ever meant to. It’s those moments that remind Harry that she’s not really on the inside. It doesn’t feel like she will ever be.

“But he still fancies you…” Harry spoke.

“But I’m not willing to stop what I have going with Louis to sort out a life with Zayn.” She clipped, “Because, it would be a lot.”

Harry looked at Zayn, his pencil pausing as he stared up at the berries on a low tree. All of these kids, she thought, oozing gold and diamonds, and they couldn’t bridge any of the gaps between each other.

\--

Harry followed her all morning, short and hot morning, still befuddled at the fact that Louis was wandering around without a piece of clothing on below the waist. Her black t-shirt was surprisingly normal and still cost more than whatever Harry was wearing.

Harry’s knees were against the tile floor of the small balcony, lined with black wrought iron railing. Louis leaned back in the chair she sat in, and the view from between her legs was stunning. Harry’s nose drew back from her clit to nuzzle and mouth along her thigh, her mouth watering and her green eyes wild on her. The sun was hot and bright in the morning air, against Louis’ face. Her hair was messy and falling all around her face, brushing against the bones of her cheeks and forehead. Her eyes were half closed, hot with the sunlight. Harry was choked by her sight, Louis’ skin was tan and warm, it smelled like her. Her gorgeous eyes looked out over the balcony to the view of the day, a little crease between her brows. One hand held onto her shirt, holding it against her torso out of Harry’s way, the other brought a cigarette to her lips. Harry was still choking, the smoke wisped into the fire-light and the gold ring on her hand glinted.

Harry buried her mouth between her legs again, closing her eyes with a crease between her straight brows and breathing heavy through her nose as she sucked and licked and vibrated under every inch of her own muscle. Her body was properly clothed.

She opened her green eyes to shine in the light as well, lashes leaving little shadows and Louis looked down at her for a while. The attention made her tongue work smoother, thicker, better. Her stomach rolled with fire, her own hands bracing against the floor. She was burning and wet between her legs but she was too distracted by Louis to reach for herself.

Louis watched her and Harry continued, not pulling away for a second. She felt she could do this forever, let her knees ache until they broke, let the sun burn her skin, let her stomach become sallow and empty, all she needed was this. Her tongue felt like heaven.

She sucked deeply, keeping her eyes open because the view was too good to miss. Louis’ mouth hung open.

“You almost made me forget I was smoking.” Louis’ voice scratched, her expression shifting for a moment, a shine. She returned her cigarette to her mouth a dragged, her eyes moving shut for a moment of beautiful pleasure.

“That’s good,” Harry murmured and pulled away only to respond, “I’ll take the compliment.”

Before she could return, Louis hand moved from her shirt to her mouth and her thumb slid along Harry’s wet, swollen, rose lips. She stayed still, leaving her mouth parted and Louis dipped her thumb in to rub over her tongue. Harry’s eyes closed and her breath hushed out of her, her brow creasing. How could so little feel so good.

Her curly hair clung to the wetness around her mouth, strands against her skin.

“You have pretty lips, darling.” Louis hummed and gave her a kind smile.  _ Darling this time, maybe next time it’s baby.  _ Harry nudged along her hand and nosed her wrist, returning her mouth to her. She wanted to taste this now.

As if her compliments weren’t enough, Louis was taking a drag and moaning low in her throat, sighing out the smoke. Harry’s eyes opened wide, her body hunching over her and her wide hands reaching up to hold onto her thighs as she dipped her tongue in deeper. She licked and licked, and Louis let her hear those moans. She wondered if they meant anything. If baby meant anything to her.

Harry’s fingers itched to join, to give her more, but stayed away. She wondered if this beautiful feeling would last forever. The lust just wouldn’t stay lustful in her stomach, Harry couldn’t keep it still, it kept softening and strengthening to something else.

She wanted this sex all the time, she wanted more. She wanted to stay here with her mouth full, to give her own sex to Louis. She wanted this high emotion. She wanted to be closer though, and every praise, every touch of Louis’ hand in her tangled curls, every  _ darling, baby _ , every soft kiss made something in Harry’s ribs tremble weak.

Louis would walk away.

Not now, with her moans coming more and her head leaned back to show her neck, her tattoo peeking out of her shirt, her cigarette burning down to her fingers.

She waited until that clamp around her ears, that satisfaction.

_ Don’t worry baby. _

_ \-- _

Harry lay on the floor in Zayn’s flat, boneless. She didn’t understand any of where she’d come from. Everything seemed fine, normal. She went to school, phoned her mum, made good on her scholarship and worked towards a photography contract with the right publication.

And then she was on the floor with Louis, sprawled over the thick blankets under them, pretty rugs making patterns below them. Zayn and Liam somewhere in a room, Niall disappearing into the night to get drunk with someone else.

And here she lay with Louis’ eyes on her collar. She couldn’t think far because her mind was fogged with weed, and smoke drifted between her eyes and Louis’. Her mind couldn’t figure out what she was doing. What had she come from, where was she going. Things didn’t feel quite right, but she couldn’t feel any pain.

Louis’ smooth hand slid across her chest to tuck her fingers into the seam around her neck and pull down. Harry’s skin felt shimmery and numb as Louis’ hand pulled her shirt down to look at her tattoos. The swallows around her bones, and Louis’ eyes narrowed. She was confused. Why was she looking at her like that. Louis never looked at her like that. She felt Louis sit up and somehow Harry’s shirt was pulled off of her heavy, heavy body. She lay on the ground, Louis’ eyes move like two racers on her tattoos, her arms, her chest, her stomach.

Harry was appalled, for some reason she felt like she wanted to cry. Why did she look at her like this now. She wasn’t sober. And then the feeling was gone and her mind cast around for it, feeling the tears dissolving like feeble mist at the edge of her consciousness, she felt fine again. High.

Louis kept looking at her in the light of the evening, her blue eyes lined with red and her hands always coming close to touch ink before gliding away. Harry remembered being in a dream, running or hitting something, but every time she moved her muscles they seemed to become useless at the last second and always left her confused. Did she run? Did she hit? Did Louis touch her tattoos?

Louis fell asleep with her arms around her waist, curling against her back.

\--

Harry was having sex with her again. Louis always kept control and Harry let her. She lay on her back, quiet as Louis moved around her long body. Her hands slid over Harry’s legs and she paused to brush her fingertips through the hair on her legs. Harry breathed shallowly, watching her fingers spinning through the hairs, taking ages to make it all the way down her legs.

She was sucking at Harry’s stomach, biting and leaving bruises that she almost wanted to regret. The bruises littered Harry’s ribs, and Louis’ small hands held more power than was fair as they clamped onto her arms and held them to her bed while she sucked at her breast. Harry panted and twitched under her tongue as her teeth threatened to bite at her nipple.

Then Louis was sucking at her clit and Harry was moaning low, long fingers threading through Louis’ hair for a moment. She pulled them away and anchored them into the blankets, iron grip. If she held onto Louis’ hair, brushing against her thighs, she knew she’d be hypersensitive of the touch against her fingers and palms. She didn’t want that. She didn’t know if she could touch, and care.

Her thighs squeezed around Louis’ head as fingers slipped into her and shocked the breath away from her lungs. She came when she couldn’t handle any more, and Louis’ eyes were on her.

She lay boneless for a moment while Louis got up and cleaned herself, bringing back a wet cloth to Harry she murmured, “here.” Her voice was scratchy and loud in Harry’s mind. She had no need to get Louis off, it was always this way. Harry always came last, because if Louis came she always did so first. Harry wouldn’t challenge her. Because, now she watched Louis drift around in perimeter, not quite returning to the bed. And Harry knew that if she lay here long enough, Louis would leave and drag herself back into the world, scraping together energy when she really wanted to lay down. She wasn’t cutting enough to tell her to leave.

So Harry got up eventually and left, not missing the tiredness that fell slowly on Louis as she did so. She didn’t want to keep her from resting when she should. And it wasn’t pleasant to linger in a place that didn’t want her.

\--

Harry sat across from the table where Louis’ arm lay against a table, the noise of a needle coming to life. She sat like a deer in the headlights as Louis looked up, blinking at her with a smile. Harry watched as the gloved hands wiped over her arm. She was distracted, as she normally was, but it appeared she became distracted more with Louis than in regular situations.

“Who’s this?” The artist nodded at her, looking her over for a moment. Louis looked at her as well, and Harry became again aware of herself. Louis’ eyes moved over her, from top to bottom. Harry’s stomach rolled strangely.

“That’s Hazza.” She hums smoothly.

“I see.” They murmured, beginning to angle the gun at her skin. “You’ve never brought anyone to your sittings before, huh?”

Louis glanced back up from her arm, making eye contact with Harry. That contact left her feeling hazy, like she was floating around her body in a muzzy form. The needled touched down to her skin and Louis’ eyes narrowed in pain, her brow furrowing and a wrinkle appearing over her nose.

“Suppose not.” She spoke tightly, and looked back to her arm. She sat well for the tattoo, still and relaxed.

\--

Harry encountered several moments of tension. She became twisted with contrition inside, her photographs and camera became a source of strange, distorted sourness on her insides and just when she was ready to confront the slow drooping strangeness it would spike into squeezing needles that seemed to come from herself and at herself.

She kept well away from her camera and did what she could not to look at it.

She felt confused. The terrible feeling twisted and she felt very confused.

Then it would leave and things settled again, she warily moved on.

The strange feeling seemed to be related to Louis.

\--

Harry last saw Louis with a focused look in her eye, hands flickering over her phone screen, texting and talking in the other room. Zayn and Niall spared her a few glances but knew she was working, Louis left the flat like a wolf on a hunt.

Next she saw her was in the tabloids.

Harry opened the door to Zayn’s flat, a concerned crease in her brow present. Zayn, Niall and Liam resided inside in varying states of distress. Zayn lay back against the cushions of the couch, an arm lain over the back and a careless expression. Niall was playing a video game on the floor in front of the couch, a pair of mallets on the floor next to him with a black board holding designated areas which must be keys.

Liam was the only one who looked like she may be aware of Louis’ news lines. She sat in a chair at the table, fingers pattering over a laptop keyboard. Her hair was tighter than normal in it’s style, meaning she was working harder than usual.

“Hey.” Niall threw over his shoulder, not looking away from the screen.

“Hi…” Harry frowned, pausing in the entryway. “Does anyone know what’s up with Louis?”

Zayn’s eyes flickered with something like weary weathering, glancing from Niall’s game across to Liam who seemed to visibly quicken and tense at Harry’s words.

“Why, what did you hear about the conflict?” Liam fired, eyes flashing over the screen. It looked like it could be several different windows up at once, her cursor switching between them.

“How much damage control is needed, she means.” Niall cackled, “For that shit show.”

“I… someone I sit next to in class was reading a twitter article on their phone.” Harry mumbled, “He said Louis’ having a row with some arseholes?”

Liam’s eyes intensified, somehow, perhaps a metaphorical hair fell from her hair tie.

“A row…” Zayn exhaled, eyes sliding from Liam to Niall again, “She just can’t take the silently dignified route.”

“Fuck those cunts,” Niall’s laughter bubbled up, his shoulders tensing as he tilted the controller. “’Bout time she had a go at ‘em.”

“What happened?” Harry made her slow way to a terribly expensive chair next to the couch where Zayn sat and took a seat.

“Harry, did you catch which publisher that guy was reading from?” Liam raised her voice, still typing quickly, pausing to pick up her phone.

“No, I didn’t.” She shook her head. Liam’s typing at least quieted for a bit and she resolved to reading silently and clicking away.

“Some critics had a bad review on her clients, and also went for some of the clothing lines she associates with.” Zayn drawled, his dark honey eyes blinking over to her. “She’s taken to a very public retaliation. No subtlety at all.”

“Critics?” Harry frowned, “That’s a little over reacting isn’t it?”

“Nah.” Niall chipped in, Harry’s expression flattened in bemusement.

“It’s been the same one for months now.” Zayn explained, “She’s been silent about it for a while, letting ‘em talk. But the latest jab went a little closer to the heart. Personal remarks about her clients and herself. Louis’ in for it because it’s a kind of smear campaign attack this time, instead of professional.”

“Here.” Niall paused the game and picked up his phone. Harry’s own pinged momentarily and she picked it up to open a link to the article in question. The critic was fairly nasty.

“Ouch…” Harry mumbled unhappily.

“S’alright.” Zayn mumbled, “Just now it’s going to affect business if she doesn’t do something about it. This is her way…”

“It could be terribly dangerous and put her on top of the media or not, but it is very stressful.” Liam muttered distractedly.

“So what.” Niall hummed, rolling his eyes, “As long as she’s representing high level clients they’re all going to see it as her protecting them.”

“Or they’ll start calling her loud and quick triggered.” Liam’s voice sounded strung and pestered. Zayn’s eyes rolled over her, his mouth turning down unpleasantly. Harry watched him worry about her.

Next, Harry’s phone vibrated, Liam’s computer chimed, as did her phone and Niall’s.

“Ah, shit.” Niall laughed, pausing to reach for his phone. Harry picked hers up to see a twitter notification from her.

“Louis…” Liam breathed, the level of wear in her voice heightening.

Harry’s heart thumped unpleasantly at the tweets that began appearing on Louis’ twitter account, if they didn’t have direct tags in them then they held the names of who she was speaking to.

Harry’s stomach felt queasy with sudden discomfort for her, seeing another appear on her account with it’s sharp, sharp words.

“Why can’t she go the subtle route.” Zayn mumbled. Niall read and began to laugh and cover his face, shaking his head.

Harry sat wondering how she knew what to say to these people, to make it sound so effective.

Liam let out a hollow sigh and leaned back, watching the tweets as Niall groaned quietly along.

Harry watched as well, as the last few seemed to close, each of them getting retweets rapidly. And then Louis invited them to the next show her clients would walk in.

Niall made a groaning laugh, Liam made a strangled sort of noise.

“All of the work...” Liam muttered, “All of the work this is going to mean.”

“Where is she?” Harry asked, closing the phone.

“Probably with the publicists, or something.” Liam mumbled. “Making sure this isn’t going to turn out of favor.”

“Well,” Zayn hummed, “You’ll know in a few days. After everyone takes sides.”

And he was quiet before adding, “It’ll be alright, Liam. All this is going to mean is what it always does, no one is going to talk out like that about her or us for a while. There will be more models trying to sign with her before the night is out.” A safeguard. A promise of favor in the industry.

“More paper work.” She hummed, leaning forward again. Zayn’s eyes flickered with concern again and he looked away.

\--

Harry stuck to Zayn’s side for a the next day, while Louis was away.

Zayn was loud at times and quiet at others. Harry learned from him about Louis’ move the day before. He told her about the fear it would instill in other tabloids and critics, the opportunities it would open for her and her clients.  

She sat next to Zayn on the balcony floor at his flat and listened to him while they smoked and Harry thought about her camera while she watched the clouds change colors and the smoke dissipate before them.

Zayn got up and disappeared for a moment, and Harry stayed where she was. When Zayn returned he had a computer and a small keyboard and her eyes widened. She watched for the next hour as he mixed music and put things together. She felt distinctly aware of herself, but determined not to bring attention to it lest he stop.

And then he was singing.

And it was sad, and his voice was thick and closed by the smoke that clung to them both. His brow creased and his eyes glittered in the muted sunlight through the clouds. His eyes closed, his mouth curled over his words, that frown aching all the way through his clothes and hair.

He stopped. Harry closed her mouth, watching him.

“That was about her.” He said and then took a long long drag.

“Liam?” Harry croaked through the smoke.

Zayn breathed out and looked at Harry’s hands before reaching forward to close the laptop in front of him, leaning back against the glass doors.

“Known her for too long.” He mumbled and he leaned his head back, too.

\--

_ Meet me at my flat, thirty minutes. _

_ -Louis Tomlinson _

The next day Harry waited inside, surprised by the fact that the door was unlocked to such an expensive flat, alone. She was anxious to see Louis after everything that happened.

The door opened and Harry stood to greet her, taking her in. She wore a black t-shirt and tight jeans, out of place scuffed shoes on her bare feet. She caught sight of a small triangle on her ankle and reminded herself to touch it later.

“Louis.” Harry’s eyes widened with surprise, her own hair in a haphazard bun. Her eyes were hungry and Harry didn’t have time to respond before Louis was on her, hands taking hold of her face and mouth opening hers up. Harry tensed at first, surprise jumping through her as her mind tried to keep up, then Louis’ tongue was pushing into her mouth against her own and her she went soft.

She couldn’t help it, her shoulders lowered and her mouth opened, her posture angled down to gravitate toward her and bow to her figure.

Louis pulled back and she was pushing her backwards, hard hands on her torso as she brought Harry to the bed and sat her down stepping back to yank off her shoes. Harry had a feeling she was wanted to stay so she did, watching as Louis took off shirt, then jeans, then bra and she was back on her.

Harry shuddered as her hands pulled the buckle of her belt and unbuttoned her, pulling her jeans away. Harry lifted her hips to help and followed along with her shirt as well. Louis knelt on the bed and pulled her up so they were facing each other.

Harry caught her in a kiss and felt her respond in kind, her nails digging into her shoulders as she kissed and licked.

“Your lips are soft.” She muttered as if surprised and Harry licked warmly at her tongue again, letting her own hands wander around her body, squeezing her hip, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing their chests together. Louis’ hands rid her of her bra, before rolling their bodies together so that she could feel her again.

Louis put her mouth to her neck and bit at her, her hands sinking into her bound hair. Harry stayed still as Louis tugged the hair tie out and let her curls fall down onto her shoulders. Then Louis was running her hands through her roots and gripping. The feeling brought a groan out of her that she didn’t expect, shuttering as Louis held her hair tight and mouthed at her neck, biting.

Harry’s heart started to pound and she became excited for what she expected, the working toward Louis’ pleasure to make her come before Louis would reciprocate. Suddenly, Louis’ body stopped moving under her hands and became controlled, she leaned back letting her hands be more gentle but still controlling in her hair.

Louis looked at her and Harry frowned back, her green eyes confused.

“Lay down on your front.” Louis’ mouth curved around the words and Harry turned to do it, hands releasing her hair. Louis got up from the bed and Harry felt hands brushing along her sides, shifting her into where she wanted. Harry looked up at her from where she lay, flushed, in her underwear and on her belly near the side of the bed. Louis looked at her as if deciding it was right before turning away and going to the kitchen. Harry’s mouth opened in upset, getting ready to follow after her but not quite. She listened. Louis returned with a single wine glass of sparkling liquid. She looked at Harry and strolled to her, taking a sip and watching her for a moment as Harry looked up at her with bright following eyes. Louis set the glass down on the table next to the bed.

She ran a hand down Harry’s back, from in between her shoulder blades and brushing against her hair to the base of her spine. Harry shamefully shuttered at the touch, eyes blinking closed at the slightest attention.

“Why don’t you lift your hips up.” Louis murmured and she did, letting her fingers curl into the waistband of the cloth around her hips and pulling to reveal her naked bum.

“Good.” Louis spoke and Harry’ breath caught, highly aware of the edge of assent in her voice. Aware that she was following directions now, getting praise for listening.

Harry’s breath, if labored before, halted now as Louis’ hand grabbed the back of her hair and pulled slowly and gently up. She applied quiet pressure, a murmur of ‘up’, and Harry lifted her head until she was supporting herself on her elbows.

Louis’ hand stilled then, letting go of her curls and sliding away.

Harry looked at her, eyes wide, watching her pick up her glass and take a sip.

“Hold this for me, H.” She murmured, and the cold glass bottom touched the small of her back making her muscles jump. Harry’s breath hitched, feeling Louis hold the glass for a moment as it steadied on the dip in her back before she pulled away. Harry breathed shallow, skin tingling and her stomach twinging at the feeling of power coming from the girl beside her. She stayed still, her hands squeezing into fists and her breath trying to stay steady so the glass didn’t wobble where it stood.

Then, Louis turned and walked away. Harry’s eyes widened incredulously watching her retreat, gate relaxed and rolling, wonderful ass disappearing into another room.

Harry couldn’t look far over her shoulder, trying to stay still and keep from spilling the sparkling glass on her spine. She wondered for a brief moment, why she didn’t get up and ask what the hell Louis was doing, not just at the moment, but in general. But her mind didn’t consider getting out from under the glass, she just stayed still and waited.

Her body was vibrating as Louis’ feet padded back to her, and her hole felt over hot and sensitive.

“Oh, your arms look lovely like that.” She hummed, her voice scratchier than normal. Harry’s arms, beginning to tremble, were tense where they held her chest up, tattoos spread over her skin.

Harry waited for her to pick up the glass, relying on each second for Louis’ move. Her mind more fuzzy with each moment, becoming focused and reliant on Louis. But, Louis did not move to retrieve her glass, she simply began to pull her own underwear off. Harry lifted her eyes from her fists to look at her, her mouth opening and becoming wet quickly.

Louis’ hand held a considerable strap on which hung forbearing beside her hip. She stepped out of her last clothing, kicking it aside. Then she watched Harry with a pleased, quiet grin as she pulled the harness around her hips. Harry’s eyes stayed attached to the strap on and her body became remarkably still, no longer trying so hard to hold the glass.

“Are you alright with a these?” Louis spoke, and this question was a serious one, Harry saw. She looked up to meet Louis’ eyes dazedly, nodding.

Louis’ grin widened, exhaling in amusement. She stepped forward, hand touching her jaw.

“Close your mouth, darling.” She did. Harry’s dumbstruck eyes followed around Louis’ thighs where the straps clung to her bum.

Just like that, the glass was lifted off of her and Louis was petting her once.

“Thanks, Hazza.” She took a sip, Harry’s arms released some of their tightness, her back loosening although she hadn’t realized the tension.

Louis, glass still in hand, got up onto the bed and swung a brilliant leg over her body. She positioned herself nicely, sitting over the back of Harry’s thighs. Harry’s breath caught, her eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of the cold, heavy cock laying against her flesh.

It wasn’t exactly a familiar feeling. Harry struggled with a so unusual urge to moan for no particular reason; perhaps the feeling had become more usual since she’d started sleeping with this woman.

Louis took another drink and ran a hand along her body, petting over her muscle and fat and bones. Harry shivered, wanting to get a control over her reactions but having no commitment to do it. She saw Louis’ hand and arm reach past her head to put her drink back on the table, her weight shifting over her bum.

Harry, for a brief moment, spurred by the heavy weight of her over her body, felt a cold spread over her skin because she wanted something. Something from Louis that had no place, and she didn’t even give it a name or category before shoving it away and remembering sex. Sex with Louis.

It wasn’t hard to pay attention, when Louis’ hands were gripping her in the place where her thighs meet her bum and spreading them apart. Harry sucked in a breath and grit her teeth, trying to let go of the frustration in her overreactions.

Louis’ fingers were dipping down to brush against the lips of her pussy, feathering down against aching flesh and dark hair. She let her fingers dip down to brush past her lips, running up to her clit and rubbing softly. Harry’s gritted teeth stifled back a growl or grunt, her wetness making for Louis’ fingers to slide so welcomed between the lips of her vagina.

She lowered her head, aware of how wet she was, of how easy it made this for Louis, as if laying down a red carpet asking her to fuck her.

Louis’ fingers rubbed gently at her clit, smoothing over it rewardingly. It was sort of affectionate, encouraging and grateful as she rubbed her. Harry stayed still for as much of it as she could, then her fingers brushed in a particular place and shot an almost painful pleasure up her belly. Her hips jumped, shoving back into her just an inch; her head lifted and a choked sound blurted from her throat. Louis breathed a voiceless chuckle at this, her hands receding while Harry settled her hips squarely and lowered her head with both relief and discontent. 

Louis let one finger apply pleasure to the outside of her lips, just over her hole and Harry waited with bated breath. Louis’ finger sunk in perfectly, sliding into the hottest, wettest part of her. Harry felt that one finger all the way through her body, into her chest, feeling opened and more welcomingly infringed upon by Louis than quite ever before.

“Oh.” Louis hummed, letting her knuckles lay snug against her, “Christ, Hazza.”

She was very wet.

“Mmm.” Harry garbled, voice quite useless.

And Louis drew back her hand, leaving her empty again. She leaned over her again to retrieve her drink. And Harry let out an entirely put upon and weary breath as she felt Louis sit happily on her thighs and nudge two fingers into her while taking a drink from her glass.

Louis fingered her steady, letting her two fingers become entirely soaked.

Then, “Do you want another?” She asked. Harry nodded. When nothing happened, she said, “Yes.” So, Louis rubbed three fingers in her, opening her wider.

Harry kept plenty of composure at this, getting a hold of herself while Louis sipped and fingered her. Then, “Do you want me to fuck you, now?”

And Harry rightly lost the composure, blurting out, “Yes, please.”

The ‘please’ hung between them, her eagerness loud and loud for both of them.

Harry looked over her shoulder, she couldn’t really help it. Louis let her look while she shifted around, taking hold of the cock and rubbing her hole a few more times, taking hold of her hips, ass, thighs, while lining up to her.

Then she put a hand on the back of her shoulder blades and Harry lay her chest down on the bed, her arms shaking a bit just as she took her weight off of them. She watched as Louis leaned her weight on her back, her hand still square against her skin, setting her champagne glass down and leaning off of her to settle at her hips. Harry stayed lain against the bed, paying so much attention.

Louis lifted up, one hand on the silicone, one holding onto her hip as she pressed against her. Then she was leaning her weight against her, pushing into her. Harry’s mouth opened silently and she closed her eyes, feeling the true size of the dildo. It spread her open about the size of those three fingers Louis gave her, and then she was being filled. It slid into her and then Louis’ hips were flush against her and she let out a breath, a quiet  _ hm  _ coming from her.

“How’s that.” Louis murmured, and Harry told her.

“Good.” She lay her chin against the bed, Louis pulled out and put both hands on her hips as she slid back in slow. Harry made one more quiet coo of reaction. Then Louis was fucking her, slow. Her hands moved from her hips to drag over her back, and she told her, ‘good.’ That one word made her muscles squeeze around the silicone and she wished she could see her with the straps around her, with her body leaned over hers.

She worried she’d come, over sensitive to every movement of Louis’ body in her.

Louis laid into her, moving her hips faster and rolling against her. Harry’s fingers clung onto the sheets and she moaned long and low.

Before she knew it, Louis was off pulling out of her and she was empty. Then the weight on her back was gone and her stomach dropped, dropped fast and empty so that she was left against the bed with nothing but air against her skin.

The bed shift, though and Louis was knelt next to her, hands pulling her up. Harry followed her and her stomach settled, letting Louis get her up on her knees. She lay down on her back and held onto Harry’s body, pulling her onto her, over her hips.

“There,” Louis hummed, hands on her hips and pulling her down onto her. Harry was careful, letting herself slide down until she was full.

Harry sat, panting and sweaty, frowning.

“Move, H.” Louis said, and she patted her thigh firmly. Harry shifted her hips halfheartedly, grinding carefully on her oversensitive flesh. She moved back and forth, finding that it was too sensitive that way and lifting up to fuck herself shallowly.

“Oh, you don’t like that do you.” Louis spoke, and her voice drawled with fascination, her eyes twinkling, mouth curling with a beautiful, fox smile.

Harry looked at her with a bit of spite and reproach, getting a rhythm as she moved.

“I’m not quite going to let you lay on your belly while I fuck you, am I.” She smiled, all teeth and childishness. Harry gave her another look but it was half there now, the other half was gleaming with a bit of her own smile.

She tried to do better, shifting her hips and rolling along with the movements, careful to keep control of her movements and get to a place where she could move without wanting to come right off.

“I wanted a change in view, darling.” Louis murmured, and she looked at her face, “Thought you might like one, too.”

And Harry met her eyes. She could see her. And she looked down at her body, looking at her chest, her tattoos. She looked at her breasts, her ribs, her stomach, her hips, the straps around her thighs, back at her shoulders and her arms, her hair, sweaty and all over the place. Her face.

Her eyes fluttered, at the sight, making her weaker again and her movements more unorganized as she rode her.

Louis lifted her hands and her fingertips brushed for a brief moment over her tattoos and then they were moving away. She touched over her body, sliding along her skin.

Harry put her own long fingers along Louis’ belly, ducking her head down and sucking at the flesh under her breast. She kissed and tasted, drawing up to lick at her nipple. Louis’ breath hitched at this and she was surprised, hands coming up to place themselves against her ribs and back. Harry was hunched over her, shifting as she could, where her long body would allow her to continue.

She sucked and kissed and tasted up Louis’ chest, her collarbones, her neck and she felt Louis tense. So she didn’t stray to any farther, taking her tongue back to her nipple where she saw Louis was sensitive.

She did this until Louis was gripping at her tightly and pushing her hips up into her, driving a sound from her. She breathed, lifting herself up a bit to help Louis as they moved in time and fucked her.

She watched Louis while Louis watched her, watched her open mouth and sweaty curls clinging to her skin. They moved and moved and Harry moaned, thanking her with her voice and rolling against her happily.

Louis’ hands holding on and her palm spreading steady against her torso.

“Come, babe.” Louis told her. She closed her eyes, wondering if she should have, and squeezed her legs tight around her as she came. Louis watched her through it. If Harry had her eyes open, she’d have seen Louis’ mouth open and awed. She’d have seen the shock and attention, the ally she’d made.

An ally for now.

And Harry had come, opened her eyes, and her arms were weak. Her body felt flimsy as she sat uncomfortably full on Louis’ hips. Louis helped her get off, thankfully, her sweaty skin falling in a sexed heap on the blankets next to her. Louis watched her for a bit.

Her hands unbuckled the straps on the harness and Harry’s eyes followed her body, her hands, watching her pull it off and drop it on the floor next to the bed.

She would have gotten up and cleaned up, ready to do just that, though Harry lifted herself up and reached for her.

“Don’t you want to come?” She asked, always forthright and innocent.

Louis looked at her with an open mouth, and Harry finally realized she might be rejected.

“I…” Louis mumbled but she lay back down and Harry moved onto her knees watching for assent. Louis didn’t protest and she shuffled down in between her thighs, head low and body slumping very spent into the space.

She looked at the red marks left by the straps around her thighs, pressing her nose along them and mouthing at her skin. She did everything with a subservience that leaned towards affection and Louis was aware of it, her face showing it. It wasn’t too much though, and Harry kissed along her thighs, burying her nose into the crease of her thigh and vagina, kissing with swollen and pink lips.

She was so tired and so happy to be pressing her face between her legs right now. She kissed and toothed at the lips of her hole. She lifted her shaking weak arms and spread her lips, licking richly at the wet inside and onto her clit. She sucked and licked. And when she looked up it was to see Louis leaned against the pillows, watching her. And she thought fleetingly about the how much of the sex they were having that was occurring inside themselves apart from what occurred between bodies.

She sucked and sunk her fingers into her hole for plenty of time, and Louis didn’t touch her but her legs started to squeeze around her and Harry was beginning to think that these were things that Louis did purposefully. She felt Louis’ reserve in her absent hands, and she felt her happiness to be touched in her thighs where the narrowed in around her.

Harry let herself be clenched into a lock between Louis’ legs as her voice began to turn velvet and alive with an almost orgasm, her thighs blocking out sound as she gripped Harry’s head. And she pulled her shoulders and arms out of the way so Louis could hold her head captive, her mouth against her clit. And Harry did what she could to keep a finger rubbing against her but there was little wiggle room.

Louis seemed perfectly pleased.

Louis game saying her name, and stopped when she got control of herself.

Harry pulled her wet, mussed up mouth away from her and stayed where she was until Louis shifted away from her. She lifted up and crumpled for a second into the sheets, breathing exhaustedly, with her hair in absolute disarray.

Louis lay in the bed next to her for a while, and Harry caught her looking at her when she blinked her brown lashes open to look at her from her pretty face. Louis didn’t even have it in her to look away fast enough, staring for a minute at Harry.

She looked so beautiful.

Harry stared back.

And then Louis was getting up to clean herself and put the strap on away to be cleaned tomorrow. And Harry watched her put strength back into her muscles, even though her eyes were blinking tiredly.

Harry got up and pulled on her clothes, looking down at herself and knowing that every bit as much as she felt like sex, she looked it.

She waited until Louis reappeared and she met her eyes.

“Thank you.” She murmured and left.

\--

Harry was familiar with all facets of her work. Photography was her home forum, the frequency that she could ride on. She saw the pictures she needed before she could take them.

The world was a series of movement, a shift through time. She was on a line of progression, with everyone else. She felt, when she took those pictures, that she caught division in the timeline. She caught the world and froze it for a moment, so that it was kept there for her, still alive.

She cared for those pictures. She had since she was little and she believed that she could do something with them. Bring something visual of the world, to others. More than a picture, but an idea, to reach people and connect them. Or that was the idea.

She was familiar with the strap on her shoulder, the metal pieces of cameras, the dustless inside mirrors. The cords tangled to her computer where she looked at the photos.

Her photos were brilliant, event conventional ones caught viewers’ eyes. They were the kind that were loud, no matter what was in the shot. She worked for those photos and hoped they’d take her to a career in the future.

As much as it was, at times it was even casual. Just a part of life. She’d be taking pictures until her fingers stopped working.

That’s why it made her quietly but deeply uncomfortable with how averse she was to photographing Louis.

She could shoot Liam, Zayn, and Niall. She even wanted to, with rather itchy sensation, when they had their excursions and nights out. At times she did, when it was just her and Niall, or Zayn and Liam.

Perhaps they noticed it, the rest of them, the camera’s absence when Louis was near. Or Louis, never seeing it on her.

She just felt strange. When she thought of shooting Louis. Like whatever she did would pervert any photograph of Louis.

Perhaps she was seeing her wrong.

Because that’s all a picture was. Just a lens pointed at whatever a person is looking at.

She didn’t know what she wasn’t seeing, how she was seeing her wrong.

Sitting across the room from Louis, looking at her with her smile all over her face, she felt that thought pulling at her. Asking her what she was missing; does she feel guilty for it.

With a lethargic blink, she pushed that semantic thought away.

It didn’t disappear, murky in the periphery.

\--

Harry always tried to make Louis come, first. In most cases, it was naturally what she focused towards. Louis always allowed this freely, guiding her through it.

Louis Tomlinson did things with ease, nothing half way. If she was going to come first, then Harry would see it as perfectly normal. She wouldn’t even think that the focus may turn more towards herself, that Louis might be fixated on her pleasure first. Harry had no problem with either, how could she, as long as they were in the same bed. She was rather giving herself, anyways.

It was a moment of strange clarity, when she found Louis drawn to her body like a fixation. A moment of authenticity.

It sent thrill up her skin.

Perhaps Louis had had something to drink before, or perhaps she’d just experienced a moment of distraction.

Harry was shaking in bed as Louis’ open mouth pressed between her thighs. Louis had been in contact with her body, nose drawn to her skin constantly. Harry was following along, bumps over her skin.

It wasn’t Louis’ hands clinging over her body, it was the thunder of her moan that made Harry gasp.

Harry lifted her head from the bed, pink mouth open and wet as she looked down at Louis’ hair scattered, thin and pink eyelids fluttering. Her own curls were tacky with sweat, and she was confused. Louis was  _ composed.  _ In every facet. Secretly composed even when looking in the midst of abandon.

She’d somehow lost that composure, and it could be felt in the tight strain of muscle in her shoulders as she shifted at Harry’s hips. Her hands were controlled franticness.

She was coming apart fast, fast as Louis’ blood, shaken down.

Louis opened her mouth, lifted her mouth from her, eyes roaming over her and she was crawling up her body. She fell into Harry’s body and she was taken by surprise by the urgency and the smooth flow that Louis’ mouth falling onto her breast brought more groans out.

Louis’ nails dug into her slick waist and Harry panted, hands grasping for sheets or bones, anything to hold onto. Her mouth sucked at her breast and Harry’s moan wavered out like a dry happy sob.

Her skin felt like it was lit from the inside out, the feeling making her disconcerted. This was disconcerting sex. She wasn’t prepared for feeling this light.

Louis body was just as hot as hers and she was sure this was different than times before, feeling her body lying along hers. Her chest pressed against her ribs, her hips between her own.

Louis lifted her head, hair falling over her forehead, mouth open as she gasped for air like she hadn’t bothered to breath while placing mouth shaped bruises on Harry’s big breasts.

Harry’s mind flitted in distraction to the hand that Louis was dragging over her stomach and diaphragm, absent minded and aimless, fingers flexing without any rhythm.

Louis’ eyes looked up to Harry’s lips and then to her own. Her breath actually paused for a moment, surprised at the sudden eye contact, and Louis was kissing her open mouth. It was wet, she could taste herself. She couldn’t anticipate the moans before they were coming out of her, into Louis’ waiting teeth and tongue. She kissed her, thinking it was so good it could be all she needed for the rest of the day, all it would take.

Louis’ supple, smaller breasts were against hers, chest to chest. Her body against hers, her perfect ass between long legs. Harry looked down at the tiger tattoo pressed against the soft side of Louis’ bum. She reached a wide hand down to take her flesh in hand, pawing in a kneading rhythm at her. Louis’ breath rushed out against her nose and cheeks, into her eyelashes and over her fluttering eyes as she squeezed in adoration. Her few rings slid against her bum and Louis’ hips ground down against her, rubbing them together, a hand coming into her hair. Harry barked out a yelping moan, fingers gripping unbreakable into the roots of her curls, pulling, consuming as she tongued into her mouth and rolled her hips down unforgiving. Harry’s eyes caught the stag shaking it’s magnificent head on Louis’ bicep as the muscles strained and she surged onto her, taking her over.

One hand found its way to Harry’s thigh and she felt it, swift with frustration as it shoved at her thigh to get between their tight seal and down to her clit. Harry’s face collided awkwardly with hers as she lifted her head in reflex, Louis’ fingers rubbing over her soaking flesh. Louis rolled with her, finding comfortable area, not backing down, breathing against her lips and looking at her with unashamed drive. Her fingers were relentless, they went for ends, waiting no longer for roadside flowers.

Louis’ arm rippled with skin and pretty muscle movements as she rubbed and fingered, chest pressed to Harry’s and body pressed to hers as they breathed through it.

Harry was coming before she could stop it, toes crimping and pushing out mindlessly, shaking through it.

Later, when Louis came, Harry was too out of her mind to remember to leave. She remembered, waiting for Louis to remind her in some way or to leave.

But, she didn’t.

Harry lay boneless, eyes blinking slow at Louis who lay next to her. On her side, both of them, facing each other. She thought something was different again from time before.

Louis was soft.

Like she’d never been before, and Harry’s brow furrowed, eyes opening to catch the unseeable while it lay before her.

Louis’ body was lineless, not simply limp, but vacant of lift. She was like a blanket lain over the bed, form fitting, peaceful.

Louis had never been… form fitting.

But here she was and Harry thought she looked immeasurably bare. Her eyes were closed, her body limp and uncurled. Her mouth open.

She’d never looked so unguarded in her life.

For a brief moment, Harry thought she was taking something that she hadn’t been given permission to take. Did Louis want her to see this?

She let go of the notion. Louis was letting this happen. That was for certain.

This was the difference that she hadn’t been able to place before. Why Louis never stayed after, tried to come first always. Because this was what she looked like. Prone. And open.

The words were new and yet Harry didn’t reject them when they made their new place alongside the lines of adjectives and attributes that Louis owned. They were natural.

Louis breathed slow and Harry fell asleep fast, for the first time having to deal with the morning after.

\--

Harry adjusted the thin watch on her wrist, looking down at it where she sat. Niall’s laughter jarred her, making her smile to herself. Glancing up, she saw Zayn leering with a wide grin at Liam where she smiled widely at him. He was making some sort of joke with her and she was rolling right along with his antic, just about ready to lay his arm across her shoulders. Harry watched for a moment, pausing with her long fingers on the clasp of her watch, amazed that they pulled off being platonic friends. It was sweet and stupid.

It was a pretty, pretty evening. The air sweet outside, waiting to be excited by them all. Tonight, they planned to attend a small dance festivity. There would be a performance and mingling and merry making, then dancing of their own.

Zayn was looking good and he didn’t need any noticing, Liam had that covered. Niall was also looking gorgeous in his own very warm, light, boyish way, his dark scruff on his face. Harry was in the habit of staring around at her friends and wondering happily at their wonderful niceties.

Liam and Zayn were turned to Niall, smiling along to his animated talking, drawling along with twinkling eyes.

Harry looked down at her watch again, trying to make it work with one ridiculous hand.

“Are we ready, lads?” That voice dragged the air, tilting Harry’s chin up. Her mouth opened, eyes stilling on Louis who was dressed in a very strange dress that should not… work. Her fingers stopped functioning.

Her eyes found that face.

It had such bright eyes. Louis looked at her smiling wide, eyes crinkling.

_ What the fuck is she wearing? _

Harry’s open mouth was quiet while the rest greeted her, sniping about waiting around for her.

“Waiting?” Louis nipped back, pretty incisors catching Harry’s gaze. “It took me five minutes tops to get dressed and ready to go!”

“Yeah, and you said show up ready but you were just sitting here in your fucking sweats!” Niall barked, and Louis rolled her eyes.

It was a pretty strange dress, but it was so fucking gorgeous. Harry’s heart felt slower in her chest and if she was at speed she may be annoyed with this incessant reaction.

Her  _ skin.  _ Harry’s eyes flicked around at the places where the dress gave way to stretches of skin along her waist and chest. Long sheer folds of fabric lay down her hips and thighs as if the dress and her body were working together to make something resplendent. Every time Harry’s head started to categorize the dress, like high fashion, something would contradict it, like the way it looked almost casual on Louis, like it was something anyone could have just thrown on. It had curls of color on it, but it was mostly dark. It was revealing but it wasn’t really sexy, it was something else.

It was hard to think in isolated concepts or formed sentences when Louis was hovering, feet always shoulder width apart, in front of her.

For a split moment it was unfair. Like Louis was standing in front of her, right in her way, making her unable to get past to anything other than how goddamn big and absolute and final she looked.

“Curly?” Louis gave her a creased brow, smile so stupid and kind. “Are you ready?”

Maybe the dress was Alexander McQueen, she really liked that designer.

Harry’s brain snapped to attention, only too susceptible to responding to her.

“Yeah.” She caught up, word sounding a bit awkward.

“Alright, then.” She made some kind of chuckle at her and they picked up their wallets and things, moving for the door. Louis looked like the leader of a troupe of gods, dressing the part.

Harry hurried to stand as well, nearly dropping her watch and resigning to carrying it to the car instead of trying to focus on more than one thing.

Later that night, Harry caught Louis watching her as she stared at her. She didn’t even notice herself staring at her, and Louis was picking it up first. She blinked in surprise, wide green eyes innocent as they hung on her.

Louis looked away from her, some low gleam in her eye. She knew Harry, sometimes, it seemed. Before she could catch up, Louis was there. She wanted to get closer at times. Harry watched her and thought that while Louis was hard, like stone in front of her, she wasn’t unkind when she smiled softly in reaction to Harry’s helpless staring.

Harry danced with her in the roseate lighting, laughter all around them.

\--

Harry came over to Louis’ flat, to retrieve a forgotten hoodie she’d left. It was strange from the moment she opened the door.

Louis opened up, her messy hair curling toward the front in a funny loop around her forehead. There was very little funny about, on second thought, it looked very good.

She wore a grey hoodie, with an Adidas symbol in darker grey, and some cotton sweats.

And  _ glasses. _

Harry’s eyes widened.

“You wear glasses?” Harry asked. Louis gave her a narrow eyed, incredulous look.

“Yes?” She smiled and huffed in amusement, “Hello to you, too.”

“Right, hi.” Harry smiled back, stepping inside while Louis shut the door behind her. She headed for the bed to rifle around for her hoodie.

“I just wear them to see the HD films better.” Louis spoke, padding over to a couch and TV, which was playing a nature documentary from BBC. “My eyesight is pretty fine.”

“Oh.” Harry looked over, watching as Louis picked up her phone and scrolled around. Harry found her hoodie quick, standing and wandering over. She was absolutely sure that she wasn’t supposed to stay, Louis and her had never hung out like she did with Zayn, Niall, or Liam, alone. It had never felt forced or unnatural, they just didn’t do that, probably because Louis wasn’t looking to be her playmate or close friend.

Now, only, it seemed much more pronounced.

“What’s this?” Harry murmured, gesturing with one over long finger to the screen.

“BBC Earth.” Louis looked up at her, locking the phone. And looked at her for a quiet moment while Harry, some would say awkwardly, nodded and stood.

“Do you want to watch?” Louis tipped her head to the tv, one arm over the back of the couch.

“Sure.” Harry nodded and she circled around, sitting down while Louis started it up.

This was weird. Harry was distracted well enough by the documentary. This was the sort of thing that she’d thought seriously about photographing professionally. She watched for a quiet while.

Harry’s eye caught a fairly small keyboard on a desk in the corner.

“You play piano?” She frowned. Louis looked over.

“Oh.” She shrugged, “Not really. Just some lessons when I was young. For fun.”

“Can you do anything on it, now?” Harry smiled.

“I guess, yeah.” She stood and went over to it, picking it up and carrying it to the couch where she sat down and lay it across her lap. She pressed the power button and played experimental notes. Then she popped the fingers on her hand inward thoughtlessly, settling on the board.

She played Angels by The Weeknd. It was amazing how good amateur piano playing could sound when it was being played in a place that you kind of want to be, with a person that you really like to be around in a weird way.

The keys rolled under her fingers, chiming bright and warm, the song jumping out brilliantly. It reminded Harry for a moment of the old eighties songs her mum would play on the piano when she was young.

She stared for a long time, and it wasn’t until the very last minutes of her stay later on that Louis seemed to become uncomfortable in her company.  

\--

Harry lay on the bed watching Louis. She was still sodden with her sweat, it looked good in the places where her hair stuck to her neck or temple. She lay on her stomach.

This was the second time.

Harry felt vaguely like something was occurring, in some way, but her brain kept quiet.

Louis’ eyes lay closed, fluttering occasionally with brief movement. She was close to Harry, just letting them both fall asleep here. Harry frowned, momentarily.

Louis lifted a sleepy hand and rubbed her nose, sniffling with a quiet and tacky sound. She shifted onto her side, an exhale, slow breathing.

Her mouth was a little bit open, and she’d been a bit sickly this week.

Harry wondered about blanket pallets on the floor in front of the tv, letting Louis hold onto her from behind. She wondered about casual talk of mundane things, silly jokes.

Louis’ wrist fell a little more limp, the last forgotten muscle falling asleep.

\--

Harry knelt between her legs, looking down at her. She was still so unwilling to put pressure on her, every vision of vulnerability had her loosening her grip in order to let Louis run – or push her away.

She lowered her head, the ends of her curls brushing the skin of her stomach. She looked at Louis and dropped a thoughtless kiss to her. Louis’ chest rose and fell, her eyes calm and concealing where they looked at her. Harry’s breath flowed out onto her, forgetting herself once more, looking at her.

She broke their gaze, looking down at her body again, thinking Louis might enjoy this.

She shuffled, bodies adjusting, finding position.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Harry asked, looking up at her as if two kids contemplating something unsure.

Louis narrowed her eyes, “What, fucking me? Yes, I’m sure I want you to do that.” She gave an amused quirk of the mouth.

Harry looked down, laughing uncomfortably.

“And you want to do it.” Louis iterated carefully.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded meeting her eyes.

After a pause, her hands came to her hair and she sat back for a moment to put it into a bun. Louis seemed to like that, even her legs shifted a bit wider.

_ Her eyes looked wide on Louis’ hand, glancing from the toy back up to her. _

Long fingers steady. Green resolute eyes.

Louis’ hands squeezed the sheets.

_ She pushed the straps against her hand, nodding at it slowly. _

_ “Me?” _

Harry took the so uncommon strapon in hand and guided it to her, one hand on her body as she pushed slow in.

_ “Yeah.” Louis answered, meeting her eyes. She didn’t look unsure. _

Harry pushed in and paused for a minute, watching as Louis adjusted. She made little pinched looks, clearly not accustomed to this.

_ “I didn’t even know you liked dildos – yourself – I mean.” _

Her pinched looks seemed backed by iron, she was Louis, after all.

_ “Well, not often. Every once in awhile, yeah.” _

Harry was glad she seemed to be pleased, however scarcely she looked at her eyes.

_ “Oh.” She nodded. _

_ “Definitely not home turf, but yeah.” _

She lay her body down against her, and whatever anticipation was left seeped away. If their bodies were together then they were alright. She sighed and shifted her hips for her, reactions blooming.

She pushed.

She pulled.

_ “Well, you know I’ve never done this.” _

Harry lifted herself onto her elbow, watching Louis as she rolled her hips and fucked her slow. Louis settled and as her assessment of the situation passed she became comfortable.

_ “Well, that’s alright, isn’t it, because I’ll be making decisions here, won’t I?” She hummed and loosened the straps for her. _

Harry’s arm burned holding her up and she liked it, breathing from the muscle in her belly.

She rocked against her and Louis’ hands stayed resolutely still for as long as they could.

Fingers wide and long touched against skin, stopping to feel the shift of little earth underhand. Fingerprints hunting blind for dark ink imbedded in her skin, finding tattoos here, there. Harry breathed out harshly at the sight, one hand grasping onto a hip and gripping as she bared down closer.

_ Hands brushed against her hips and thighs and fitted her into lengths of matter, wrapping her legs into the material and standing so close. _

Louis’ fingernails cut into her and her breath touched high on her shoulder and low on her neck.

“Mm.” She let out a sound and her brow creased.

_ She wrapped her fingers around the straps and pulled her curtly in, straightening tall, looking into her eyes mischievously. _

Body pressed down against her, mind getting carried behind.

She squeezed herself around Louis and pressed her face into the sheets next to her head, holding on to the panting body beneath her.

_ “Think you can do that?” She whispered, one hand moving around to her bum. _

Harry pushed harder, hips finding comfortable rhythm. Louis’ voice hummed in her ear.

_ “Yeah.” _

\--

Harry sat there, in the back of the expensive car, the lights from outside muted as they fell in.

The voices of their friends echoed inside and soon they would all go home.

She leaned against her hand on the seat between them, Louis’ hand gripping the back of the seat as she leaned in close, like a hunter.

Vulpine.

Harry could smell her scent, could feel their heads tilted together like two kids in high school on the verge of the next secret trouble.

Instead of plotting mischief, the plot was on her.

Louis’ body got just one bit closer, and the slight of her breath fell into her open mouth, onto her tongue and across her lip. Her shoulders loosened, lowering so that she was bent to a little bow in front of her. She never moved her face from her.

“You want to kiss me, don’t you.” Louis spoke. Her breath seemed to head straight for her mouth.

Harry wondered, briefly, when her period would end. As much as she sort of took care in it; it did make for brilliant friction.

She nodded, meaning to wait but jumping to kiss her before she thought.

\--

Harry sat in the limo, but she felt strange. Mostly she looked out at the city and thought about the stars that were certainly up there.

Louis’ birthday party was sure to be everything everyone expected it to be.

Louis herself was distant from her tonight, and Harry wasn’t very surprised.

Harry got out of the limo with the rest of their friends and it was to step into a cacophonous glory of chanting and drinking.

Upon entering, it was soon after that Harry watched Louis lean over a table and press her mouth to a glass bong. The crowd around her actually sang happy birthday loudly and she pulled back to cheers around, a smoky smile on her face. Harry didn’t see her for a while after that.

She floated through the party, spending most of her time with Niall. She wanted to settle down and have fun, she tried to feel normal. The longer the night rolled on, the further out she felt, the colder and more sour her stomach turned. But she kept it distant and drifted around the party, smiling and waiting.

Harry looked through a table of food, a glass of white wine in her hand. She was beginning to accept her phenomenal ability to be completely uncool in most ways as she picked up a small bowl of fruit. She even knocked her wine back and refilled the cup with water because she was thirsty.

She stepped through a set of glass doors onto a small patio in the back of the house, this area was quiet and less populated. It looked as beautiful as just about everything here did. The incandescent lights around the sitting area glowed and Harry turned to look for a seat. She found one, a loveseat with a girl slumped into one side.

“Louis?” Harry’s voice lilted with concern. Her brows creased and she stood still for a moment with her hands full of water and fruit. Louis blinked at her slowly and one side of her mouth curled up. Harry set her things on a small table next to the seat and sat gently, leaning back and putting her hands in her lap.

“Hey.” Harry hummed. Louis breathed in and sighed out.

“Hi.” She mumbled.

“You sitting down for a bit?” She murmured watching Louis.

“Yeah.” She nodded, “You having fun?”

Harry frowned, it was a strange question.

“Of course.” Harry murmured.

“Really?” Louis rolled her head to look at her, her temple leaned against the back of the chair. Even like this she looked beautiful.

“Sure.” Harry nodded. She saw the wide pupils in Louis’ eyes, eclipsing the blue.

“Did you take something, Lou?” Harry asked.

“Take something.” Louis repeated quietly.

“Yeah…” Harry nodded.

“I… smoked.” Louis mumbled, “Had a drink.”

“What else.” Harry murmured.

Louis lifted her arms to lean them across her stomach, and she looked at Harry with lazy eyes.

“Had a… Xanax.” Louis murmured and Harry was still without reaction. “And cocaine.”

Harry’s inside constricted looking at her as she took shallow breaths, blinking as her pretty, loving eyes slid across Harry. Up and down, on her arms and chest and legs, hands, chin… nose and mouth and cheeks.

“Maybe we should go home, Lou.” Harry whispered under her breath, leaning her head closer as if they were conspiring. Louis’ slack mouth widened with a smile and her eyes glittered for a short moment at her.

She almost giggled, her breath feathering out unevenly like it, Harry was distracted for a moment by Louis’ childlike amusement.

“Home.” She laughed quietly to Harry and Harry’s chest felt tighter, she couldn’t lean away from this wreck, couldn’t look away either because she was so beautiful but it wasn’t in her face, it was in the wire that held unbreaking between their sternums. Harry was less interested in the expensive, anciently pretty dress that framed her uncompromising body.

She almost asked again, ready to see if maybe she would come home.

“Can’t go home, H, have to tell my Mum first.”

Harry’s mind posed the confused question but she couldn’t get it out because suddenly Louis’ eyes widened and she looked up into the air over Harry’s head and roamed around.

“Oh, I love this song.” She smiled. Harry wanted to sit here with her for the rest of the night, let her fall asleep and just watch. Her body felt heavier with it, content to be where they were. But her eyes caught dark circles under her eyes and saw her lip hands and wrists and the struggling urge to leave kicked in the back of her body again.

_ Yes, I know that love is like ghosts, few have seen it but everybody talks. _

She was stupid, sitting and looking at her. She sat there while Louis pushed herself up from the couch with an agility that caught her by surprise.

“I’ve got to go, one sec.” Louis said and she was walking away, steady on her feet which were bare. Harry watched her back disappear and looked around for her shoes which she couldn’t find.

Harry looked for Louis for a bit, wondering around. Stepping into the bathroom she brushed her hand against the frame, her tall body filling most of the threshold.

She stepped forward into the tailed flooring, the bathroom was large with long mirrors and sinks, a deep bathtub and a shower with several heads.

She saw, in the back of the room, a small alcove and caught sight of the material of Louis’ dress.

“Louis?” She strode toward her, finding her leaned against the wall, one shoulder against the toilet in an awkward angle. Her head lolled unpleasantly and her hair fell into her eyes. Her lip was wet with spit.

“Lou.” Harry reached forward and gripped her shoulder with jaunty, stiff hands and hard fingers. She didn’t shift or move, so Harry reached forward with a second hand and touched her neck, other hand cupping the side of her head. Her heart thumped steadily along and Harry felt silly, but not after her relief.

She leaned back a bit and looked at her, unconscious against the wall and her perfect dress splashed with a stain of some drink.

The sound of the door roughly opening and steps scuffling in jarred her and she looked over her shoulder at a man and woman jostling inside.

“Shit, is the toilet open?” He asked with concern.

“No.” Harry answered and he grew more distressed.

“Fuck.” He mumbled and Harry watched him, saying nothing.

“Come on.” The girl grabbed his arm and they turned to leave talking about another bathroom.

Harry turned back to her, knelt on the ground and bracing an arm against the wall next to her, framing her.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Zayn’s number. She heard it end straight into voicemail, perhaps it had lost charge. She dialed Liam next, and it rang through to no avail. She tried Niall. He answered and listened to his drunken self trying to focus on what she was saying. In the end he ordered a car and Harry thought she could have done that herself.

She hung up and looked at Louis for a minute before deciding to get on with it.

She reached an arm around her back and sat her up, patting her and asking her to wake up. The most she got was a mumbled response and she tried more, hoping not to retain her autonomy and simply help her walk to the door. It wasn’t working so she shifted one hand under her knees and strained her muscles, pushing her legs up under her and shifting Louis into an easier position.

She wondered briefly how badly Louis would take to being carried like a child. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind. She walked out of the bathroom and found the door, ignoring the curious glances at them.

Looking around she remembered that detached feeling from before. She saw the drinks waving in the hands of the dancers, the pairs of people clinging to each other and the ridiculous grinding. The incessant music that continued with all the authenticity of plastic grass – or any of the people crowded into this house. She felt the distaste on her face as her arms held up Louis’ sleeping body.

Did none of them know that this was her party? It was supposed to be her birthday, and she was passed out in the bathroom; no one even cared.

Did Louis?

She was lucky that Niall was leaning sloppily against the car when she got to the driveway, she didn’t have to stand around wondering what to do next. Niall started and opened the door for her, she slipped in and struggled into the seat with Louis’ heavy weight on her. She shifted her into the seat next to the door and leaned her against it. Louis’ eyes blinked open but she doubted if she made any sense of her surroundings, and she shut them again. Niall sat down next to them and Harry told the driver the address.

If anything she was glad they were leaving.

\--

Harry opened the door to her own flat, stepping in and heading to her bedroom to search for a something warm to put on before they went to the lake.

Louis, hands in her Adidas sweats padded inside with casually curious eyes as if more curious than she let on. Harry was sure she’d been in here before.

She lost sight of Louis as she searched the small closet for a coat, giving up and rifling through the floor and bed for something. When she found it she hopped over books on the floor and shimmied out the doorway to the living room.

She paused, hand still on her jacket, seeing Louis standing at her desk. She could see her side profile as she looked down at the prints of Harry’s work on the wood top. She was leaning against the edge with her hands, back curved forward. There were many different kinds and separate files waiting to be arranged into a portfolio that could be sent to an employer. She meant to say something, then Louis was brushing the mousepad and waking the computer on the desk. It had closed folders of photos at the ready and Louis was opening them with the discovering tilt of her head.

Harry saw her photos flashing before Louis’ eyes, screen filled with her perspective.

That’s all it was, really. Perspective.

That’s what made photos different.

“Hey.” Harry blurted out and Louis looked over her shoulder, her eyes were wide and her mouth open a bit. In spite of the mild surprise, Harry expected some bashfulness, some start of shock. But there came nothing, and Louis was as always so comfortable out of bounds.

“These are your shots.” Louis stated, narrowing her eyes at her.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, hand still holding the jacket lowering down.

“You did these well.” Louis stated.

“Thank you.” Harry nodded again. Louis showed less emotion than she would have expected, though it followed a pattern that Harry forgot to acknowledge.

“Why don’t you shoot some of my models.” She lifted up from the table and strode towards her, cool eyes steady on Harry’s which were ever wavering.

“P… People?” Harry wondered dumbly, Louis tilted her head with amusement and her eyes glinted a little. Harry had the distinct memory of Louis’ stone solid appearance when she spoke to those aristocrats with all of their money and prestige.

“Yes, people. I can bring them into a studio and let you have a go at them. I don’t know what you need but the shots could go into your portfolio, it would make you more versatile. And the photos would be good for the models, their work, too. Something off the runway.” Louis kept eye contact and Harry shifted her feet. She had her focus set fairly on a journalism job.

“I don’t know... I mean it sounds fine.” Harry shrugged.

“I suppose mostly, I just want to see what you would do with them.” Louis murmured, shrugging quietly.

Harry conceded.

\--

Harry kept glancing back to Louis, as Louis was drifted from the spotlight to lurk behind the center as a viewer and view she did. Harry could feel it, it was abnormal and distracted her.

“This is Katherin, Harry.” Louis introduced the first model to her and Harry smiled kindly to her, shaking her hand and pushing her hair back.

Louis had no desire to stand with them and Harry let her sit in the back of the room and turned her mind from it.

“Hi, Katherin.” Harry smiled at her and she smiled back, she was tall, coming up to Harry’s own level. She had been mostly straight faced and Harry saw the seriousness shuffle off in the breaks of smiles that she was able to bring from her as she talked to her for a few moments, asking her about her job and about what they were doing today. Katherin seemed comfortable enough changing her face quickly when Harry stepped toward the light and set up they had.

She stood with her camera across her torso, against her side. Crossing her arms and leaning a hand against her chin, she pushed her lower lip out a bit, chewing it. She looked to Katherine, who looked at her with a straight face and square shoulders waiting for instruction.

“There’s very little to go on here,” Harry hummed, feeling unright with Katherine looking at her for orders, she pulled her into talking. “I like white canvases, and shells, it’s good to… like… narrow everything down to the person and all. I like using this kind of set for when you’re trying to focus on kind of making someone obvious and not distracting from them, you know.” She mumbled, looking at her, and Katherin was looking at her, nodding, listening but she didn’t answer or offer any collaboration. So, Harry smiled and walked forward, into the set gesturing around for her to follow.

“Here, I suppose you just stand right here, hm?” She faced the front of the set and waved around at the white space around them. Katherine stood beside her and let slip an amused quirk of the face.

“You know what you’re doing, don’t you.” Harry breathed out a laugh, “I don’t shoot people, I’ve no idea what you lot do for these things.” Katherin smiled widely and assured her.

Harry walked out and turned to her holding her camera and raising it to troubleshoot, adjusting settings to get within the rough area of what she wanted. She looked through and took her first shot, seeing Katherine pose in a striking manner. She frowned at the picture, hesitating before changing the settings and shooting twice more before it was correct.

“I think you’re… tense?” Harry hummed, tilting her head a bit.

“You want more low energy?” Katherin’s wide eyes watched for communication intently. “Laid back?”

“Sure.” Harry nodded, not very sure, in fact. Katherin delivered, the energy scaling back intensity. Harry shot a few more times, moving a bit and understanding. She didn’t like this, there was nothing for her to shoot here. She knew what she could shoot, here, it was in front of her and she’d seen it done before. But growing up, experimenting, she saw that she could shoot any way she wanted to and that it was a waste to not try for something that wasn’t instinctual when looking for something right away.

“Sit, please?” Harry hummed, and sat herself, crossing her legs. They sat and Harry restrained her more loopy positions of shooting because she expected it to make Katherin model more and there was no need for it anyways, because there was nothing to shoot yet.

“Hm.” And she felt strangely inadequate at her kindly socialization for a brief moment. It was the camera, she was thought. “You’re very… your face is, like – model. Really, done, you know.”

“Yes…” Katherin gave her a look to show she wasn’t following and Harry’s mouth opened to speak again.

“You’re really modeling, you know.” She talked again, setting her camera on her thigh, which is a grand indicator that it wasn’t working.

“Yes.” Katherin frowned, displaying more misunderstanding. “Is there something you’d like?”

“Well… You walk clothes, right? Like, model clothes already made.” She put her hands down and held Katherin’s gaze, brows creased.

“Yeah, yeah.” Katherin nodded and Harry thought she felt it coming right again, wanting to keep her talking. Her face looked like her face again.

“What are you wearing?”

“This is some that Louis brought here for the shoot, I’m not sure who the designer is.” Her pretty hands were in front of her, the nails of four of those fingers brushing against the back of one slim hand. An idiosyncrasy.

“It’s really nice.” Harry murmured, because she didn’t like being unkind and it was true she looked lovely. “I like it, but, you’re sort of… modeling it.”

Katherin’s brows creased confusedly.

“I didn’t want that.” Harry explained, hands articulating and fingers wide, brows up as if realizing they weren’t on the same page.

“Oh? I…” Her hands moved their own courses, separating and mindlessly reacting.

“Yeah!” Harry nodded, smiling, “I didn’t want you to model clothes, no.” She laughed, “I wanted to shoot you, you know? You’re not really – you – it’s not working at all. I was hoping you’d, like, not – model, I guess.”

And Katherin gave her a strange look with a half smile, making Harry smile and blush, hands curling over her mouth at her irony.

“Yeah, that’s your job, isn’t it.” She laughed.

“Yeah.” Katherin laughed again quietly, her own mannerisms rising out of the modeling mold to match with Harry’s some. “I…”

“Here,” Harry stood up and went to the door of the studio, seeing Katherin stand in her place and watch her. She saw Louis with her hand holding her phone, but she was looking up from those dragon’s eyes and Harry thought the phone was pretense. Harry turned on the light switch, seeing unaccented light reclaim the room, she refaced Katherin and hovered next to the shells, looking for a way to turn them off.

“Not sure how to… work these ones.” Harry frowned, and Katherin walked forward with her reserve still in tact. As if she was willing to help but still not out of her initial formality.

Katherin reached forward and they looked around the shell, “I definitely know how to use light boxes,” Harry laughed, “Even though that sounds uneducated, I swear, I took classes for this kind of thing.”

“Did you?” Katherin gave her a mischievous look and Harry’s face lit up in response, laughing.

“Rude.” Harry quipped, and she looked down at her overlarge feet.

“Here’s the fucking chord, what the hell.” Harry exasperated at their own silliness.

“Oh.” Katherin chuckled and Harry followed the wire to the wall, careful not to trip, pulling it out so that it came out.

They never unplugged the other light, because Katherin suggested that they take the colorful slip cardigan that hung on a clothes rack near the wall and hang it over the shell. So they did, and it did make the light different colors and Harry told her it reminded her of being beneath one of those big, rainbow gym sheets that she played under as a kid. And Katherin was easier to talk to, rolling along with this even though it made little sense even to Harry. All she knew was that she couldn’t shoot Kath – that’s her ridiculous (her words not Harry’s) nickname – in that white, empty set. The light’s were colorful and Harry complained that they didn’t have a music dock they could listen to. They decided to play something from Kath’s phone, it played louder. Harry felt happy to be in her usual place, quick witted at times and often blushing and giggling when Kath teased her. They went into the back room and Harry and Katherin oo’d and ah’d at all of the things in the dressing and prop room. They looked around and Harry asked her more prerequisite questions to get to know her because it would help them work together to be relaxed and to stop thinking about this, that’s what she wanted. Harry watched her with much teasing as Katherin kept picking things up and up, ridiculous things.

“Are we going to have to put all of this back?” She asked, hands a bit full of tiny, weird props and almost tacky looking colorful lights.

In the set they sprawled all the silly props and Katherin picked them up, sitting cross legged and talking about them, rhetorical questions and comments. Harry made her own observations, and picked up another sheet of pretty color and threw put it on the light, too.

“Is this a fire hazard…” She asked and they laughed about it.

Sitting together Harry, looked through Katherin’s social media accounts making remarks about her self promotions and personal posts. “That face is embarrassing.” “It isn’t!” “Come on.” “It was for a make up sponsor, that’s what they look like, what would you have done?” “I wouldn’t have been in a makeup ad!” “Okay – so!” “You just make a normal face that people make when they wear makeup!” “They do not, people make faces when they wear makeup, you know, the-“ And she made the face. “Oh my god…” Harry shook her head, and Katherin rolled her eyes throwing a cotton stuffed, vintage, rabbit with a ribbon around it’s neck and an unfortunate shade of red coloring only it’s head.

“What do you listen to?” Harry asked and Katherin unlocked her own phone, passing it to her with the library open.

“Oh my god, you just hand your phone off unlocked?” Harry gave her an incredulous look.

Katherin’s face gave her a look and her shoulders slumped, “I had the library open.”

“So, you don’t have anything to hide?”

“I just expected you wouldn’t look.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

And she spotted one, “Who is this?”

“Matt Maltese?” Katherin leaned into her and looked at the phone with her, one fine hand brushing her hair back as she lifted a hand to press his name.

“He’s an artist I found recently by accident, I love him.” And Harry looked at ‘Strange Time’.

“Strange time…” She quirked a brow.

“Oh my god, I love this song, you have to listen to this, I love this.” And she started playing it. They turned it all the way up and Katherin tried to sing along without blocking out any facet of the music and Harry watched, leaning back on her hand and listening to the music.

She took her first picture, again, when Katherin lay on her back on top of a long red sheet of felt fabric and put her hands on her forehead, her elbows open to her sides, and crooned with the music.

She heard the shutter and Harry imagined she might lose what she was looking for but Katherin got distracted by her favorite part of the song and she closed her eyes to sing along, arms like a young kid out by her side.

The pictures might not be worth a thing, but here, with Katherin in her expensive, pretty dress, laying on the ground with her arms out like a starfish, singing  _ let’s just have a strange time,  _ with all of the weird things they’d strung out together – at least this was something Harry could take pictures of. They may be worthless for a portfolio, and she may suffer from that strange happening later on where she looked back and thought  _ these photos look generic… they don’t even look like anything. Anyone could have taken the same thing. _ But, right now, at least the shutter sound was worth hearing.

It was distraction enough to forget that Louis was watching her, and she wasn’t at all able to read her, from the corner of the room. Her mind did that twitch of a thing where it said she wanted to drag Louis into her bubble and see her, cater to her, lay down for her like a pet for attention.

Louis left the studio when they did, despite Harry’s invitation, while she and Katherin went to get coffee together.

The photos were a success.

Katherin posted them on her social media accounts and gave credit to Harry which gave her an influx of several hundred followers that rather overwhelmed her in an aspect.

\--

Zayn sat with Harry on the couch at Niall’s flat, where he chewed on a pencil and leaned on his elbow, sprawled across the carpet in front of the couch. Zayn leaned back with one arm over the back of the sofa.

“Liam probably stayed out with Louis at the studio,” Harry hummed, those rose-bowed lips curling unsure over quiet discontent. “Louis not been in a good mood lately… Sure Liam’s not wanting to leave.”

“Mmm…” Zayn mumbled, looking away from her and lifting his hand to lean his head against it, likely as a way of drawing himself in. “She’s been out for a couple weeks.”

Harry frowned at him, crossing her arms.

“We had another row,” He spoke, looking down at his lap with little in his eyes to bely any connotation to his words, any heart behind his mouth.

“About what?” She dared, though he didn’t answer for a moment. Harry glanced at Niall, wondering if he was listening, as he usually had something to input on conversations, and always gave signs of listening in. This time, he scribbled notes on a pad and flipped pages of sheet music.

He didn’t seem to infringe on them with his engagement and Zayn didn’t seem to think he was reason enough to stay silent.

“Just… the usual.” He pulled his arm down and his posture didn’t lounge comfortably again, it sat loose and but without leisure. “I told her she ignores her life for work and uses parties like some kind of… outlet. She’s mad, sometimes… She told me I’m not honest and I just lie about myself, said I’m too scared.”

“About the… music part?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.” Zayn nodded, “Said I’ve got everything I need and I’m… shallow about it. I don’t know what she’s… fucking meaning.”

Harry’s face shown through sad, as always the heart on the sleeve.

“But don’t worry about Louis.” Zayn turned his face to her, “She’s not mad at you she just… you make her kind of worse in a way. She starts micromanaging the stuff her models wear and walk. She’s never happy with the designers and they know it, give her shit for it.”

“Why do I make her worse?” Harry’s eyes heated.

“I don’t know.” Zayn shrugged, “I mean… That’s her… shit, you know.” And he knew more from talks between closest friends than he let on, Harry was sure.

“It’s probably because of the pictures you take.” Niall suddenly spoke, pausing his pencil wiggling for a moment but not moving to look at them.

Harry traced Louis’ distance back to Katherin’s shoot and frowned at the back of Niall’s head, looking at Zayn.

Zayn gave her one look and raised his eyebrows, looking away.

\--

Harry sat in her seat at the empty auditorium, watching the crew on stage cleaning up, the artists talking together for a leisure moment, slow to even start cleaning their instruments and bothering not stay off stage when they did. It was informal.

“Hey,” Niall bounced off the stage into the aisle to where she sat. Harry rose to meet him and they walked for the exit. “Sorry that took so long, they wanted to chat.”

“No problem.” Harry smiled, “We going back to the flat?”

“We gotta get food first, I’m fucking hungry.” Niall pushed a hand through his hair. “You want take out? Or, you want to go somewhere?”

“I don’t care, either is good.” Harry twisted the metal of the bracelets around her wrists mindlessly as they stepped into the lively night air.

“We could go to this place down the street where they play bands at night and serve food,” He nodded down one direction, “If you don’t want to go home. I know the guys playing tonight, they’ve got a couple nice ones. Singer’s got a sick voice.”

“Sure,” Harry nodded and they started walking. “You got pretty enthusiastic applause tonight.”

“Oh, yeah?” Niall smiled big and laughed, “It sounded fucking sick, love that program. We argued like crazy putting it together, but it got so fucking meticulous, down to the stupid shit. We need more than one program to get everyone’s feelings satisfied, you know, we all want it right.”

“Everyone looked pretty friendly.” She gave him an amused smile.

“They are!” He tugged up on the belt loops of his jeans looking every bit the galavant-trouble-golden boy. “That happens every time a set list is put together, don’t think I’ve ever seen it go smooth. That was a chamber concert, too, that was fucking nothing to the big ones.”

“It worked.”

“I’m glad, I forget sometimes we have a crowd to play for.”

“You didn’t notice the standing ovation?”

“No,” He smiled gratefully though. “I don’t really hear the applause sometimes.”

\--

Louis was in the passenger seat, driving. Harry couldn’t stop looking over at her. She, so strange in the light of the sun, stared through the window as the road wound before them into the ending of the day. The wind was pulling her hair up around the back of her head and into her eyes. Between her eyebrows was a humble crease, one hand holding a packet of cigarettes while the heel rested on the wheel of the car. The sun going down did so much for her skin, she thought. She wore no makeup today – she seemed so good at wearing it but… perhaps at heart was less for it, more often than not.

Images of her makeup and heels on flashed in Harry’s mind; this armor, gear of war, donned for when she struck a match and burned like a star, or else went to battle with the unbeatable.

Louis stopped the car in a patchy, open field. An underwhelming place. But in the sky, the light began to fade.

There they sat and Harry looked at her hand, watching her, her own fingers twitching before she could stop herself thinking of taking her hand. This was an unattainable friend. Wanting to reach for her… there was a way to break that wall but reality set in.

Louis lit a cigarette, the glow of it burning over her nose and cheeks. Her face was set so stern, and far away she seemed to cry quiet.

“Louis?” Harry murmured.

“Look.” She spoke, nodding to the windshield. Harry did look and found the sun where it screamed its light even louder in its last hour.

“Pretty.” Harry blurted out.

“Yes.” Louis said and breathed in her cigarette. Harry saw in the corner of her vision the welcome curve of Louis’ shoulders, the slope of her body where it sat so naturally. Something was mountainous about her – Trojan.

She remembered laying her cheek against the inside of her thigh, nose brushing the hair of her vagina, the praise she felt in the hands on her head, shoulders.

She looked more sternly at the star in their sky, intending to be perfectly able to refrain from looking at her or thinking about her body.

“The man who is my father is named Troy.” She spoke, that voice breaking the still air.

Harry looked away from the sun, back to her. Louis kept face toward the sun, watching its pathway.

“I haven’t seen him in… five years now.” She smoke, taking another drag. “But it doesn’t matter. He was gone from the moment I was born. He’s also where a lot of money comes from.”

Harry thought of questions but felt mute.

“I mean… where some of the first money came from… My money is mine now, thankfully.”

Quiet passed.

“Mark lives with my mother and sisters now. He’s a good man, I suppose.” More pause elapsed. “My mother made a lot of money, too. She donates, to everyone.” Something shifted in her eye like this might make her smile, but it didn’t.

“I remember growing up with her.” She spoke quietly, “She’s good… Every time I wanted to accept that the world is the world and we’re all just… not good. Or something… Selfish. She’d be there. Making it impossible. She’s so good it makes up for… any of her bad.”

Harry watched the cigarette burn lower.

“She’s dying.” She spoke. Harry’s breathing paused.

“I don’t understand how that works.” Louis mumbled. And she didn’t speak again for so long.

Harry’s heart was wounded so she reached for her hand, to bridge the gap and not leave either alone.

“Don’t.” Louis said, her fingers closing against her own palm. Harry grew cold, retrieving her hand.

She looked away from Louis because she was cold to see. It was sometimes like this, like looking at something that was so hard it could be felt in the back of the eyes. So unkind. The sun disappeared.

“You’re not happy with us, are you Harry?” Louis finally looked at her.

“With us?” Harry frowned.

“With our friends… With myself.” Louis stared. “You think we’re wrong?”

Harry’s mouth opened in surprise that she would insinuate there be something incorrect about herself or her friends.

“No.” Harry said. “I like you.”

Louis stared at her and the hardness acquired fatigue.

Louis put her arm out of the window, looking at the cigarette as she rolled it between her fingers and it burned to the butt. She dropped it and sighed, an unusual thing to do, and put the car in reverse.

\--

Louis remained quiet in Harry’s presence and as far in her place as Harry felt Louis keeping her, well removed from her core, she still saw Louis keeping her in contact. Close enough to be her friend, far enough to stay that way.

Harry always knew something was wrong but her head was so unclear these days, her logic and energy were being reserved with careful clutches, navigated, toward her career. What her mind could do was restrained to getting herself a job that she cared about. Anything left over wasn’t enough to confront Louis about the strange feeling in her. Like a star with a collapsing core. She was so bright, so warm on the outside and Harry stayed caught, but somewhere on the inside fusion was consuming molecules and releasing energy at a rate too exponential to sustain. It seemed that way with all of them, somehow. Not just Louis, the Sun in the system.

Passing in front of Harry, where she sat on the couch with one arm over the back, her eyes followed the Sun as she strode through the flat with a crease in her brow and one hand carding through her hair. She was frowning slightly, and Harry narrowed her eyes slightly. This Louis was ever more relapsing into an honest face, losing that absolute perfect masquerade that they’d known. Every time Harry saw her forget that mask, she stared, and then it was back and more believable than before. It must be part true.

She was just so beautiful here in the late morning light, her thinking mind playing on features as she went about her day – she let Harry sit with her in her flat like they were friends, who shared hours together. Harry could have stood and asked, what is happening? Something is wrong, isn’t it? She did felt far away, the only thing solid anymore being the pictures she captured. Fittingly, she never captured Louis.

Harry could have, but following this Sun was peaceful. Placating. Why defy gravity when here on the ground there was enough for now.

She watched Louis, one hand on her waist, one in her hair as she went about her day with that frown.

People are only truly beautiful when you’ve grown attached to them, Harry found.

“Have you seen my class papers?” Louis looked up, that face severe as it was briefly wrested from the focus of her thoughts, “My end of term paper, I could work on it.”

She looked around for it, touching at papers and murmuring, “I’ll be back,” before leaving the living room to find it.

Harry stood, casting around at the disarray, leaning over to shuffle through some papers and looking for the demographics and economics paper she’d seen Louis thinking over before. She smiled at her scrawled handwriting and her mess, it was so unusual. Her sitting room would never look like this, where she brought her many guests. Never so personal. Maybe messy but only just so.

She listened to Louis bumping in other rooms, finding some kind of company in the noise, looking on the floors around her desks and chairs, thinking that she’d most likely let it drop off of a desk in favor of a more compelling work, probably something to do with managing her lines.

She paused, looking around the room with a little frown, sighting the nice wooden desk in the corner of the room. It was heavy set, next to the windows, some of the sheer fabric drifted over its surface. It was a nice place to work. She liked seeing Louis sat there, staring out the window as she thought. Rare as it was sighted.

She padded over to it, brushing her fingers over the papers on the desktop and looking for something that might belie the notes on the subject or the paper. She opened the drawer, bending lower a bit to see things. She frowned, slowing. The drawer was bigger than first appearing, inside there were organized strips of fabric.

She lowered her hand into the drawer and touched the fabric, it was folded over something thick. She picked it up and raised from her bow, tilting her head at the fabric. She felt at the edges, tipping it and finding more shades and designs and stitches layered there. She unfolded the wrap of colors and breathed out. The pallet of pretty assortments unfurled to show swatches upon swatches of fabric. Each were stitched carefully and all were folded together snugly and carefully tucked against each other. She looked over the fabric, sliding against the skin of her hands, down into the drawer where more caught her gaze. There were papers. A few small pieces of cutouts were scattered on top, she lowered her hand to see. Notes made that seemed to have patterns of notation on them that referred to a system that must make sense to its author. She brushed them aside and picked up the stack of papers to see more small cuttings throughout full sheets of smooth paper. The papers were covered with pencil, well preserved, notes and sketches. The sketches stilled her eyes; detail, upon notated detail, hand drawings of clothes. Well drawn clothes. Passionate notes were happily arranged with arrows occasionally pointing to pieces of clothing. Some notes were haphazard, some notes were rigid in well kempt lines and spaced clearly to make a point.

There were drawings of hands, bodies, and birds – many birds arranged in different ways. They were named – white tailed tropicbirds. There were even lengths of thread inside the drawer, pretty, pretty thread. All this and no measuring materials, no needle. As if she’d gathered everything and denied the step where any of it is put together.

It was exciting. Anyone could perceive the potential in her hands.

“Put it down.”

Harry turned with wide eyes, Louis was looking at her with her head high and her shoulders tense. There was titanium cast to her body that seized Harry’s muscles into tight grips.

Pallas Athena was angry and Aphrodite was red handed.

“Louis.” Harry blurted, unable to look away from her, something akin to taking one’s eyes from their predator.

“Get out.” She spoke, quiet and hard.

Harry’s face became confused and she suddenly felt, unrightly, ashamed. Embarrassed in the back of her mind, like she’d done something obviously unacceptable in front of a large gathering. Her face burned.

She didn’t move fast enough, “Get out!” Louis’ hands formed fists, stones.

Like Athena’s father’s lightning, the sound, like great stones breaking on each other. Her voice hit Harry.

Harry put the contents of her hands on the desk, her throat tight and refusing to so much as think about the situation. She crossed the room, putting the couch between herself and Louis, picking up her shoes and opening the door. She stepped outside before putting on her shoes, or even breathing deeply. Louis hadn’t moved an inch.

\--

“She was so… she was angry.” Harry breathed, looking at Zayn and Liam, for answers. Niall frowned from where he leaned against the ornate kitchen counter. Harry wished it were more dirty, maybe with some peeling covering that tried in vain to continue mimicking stone tiling. These counters weren’t a façade, they were clean and unreal and Harry wanted to break them and replace them with some cheap wood imitation.

Niall looked down at his drink and swirled the glass thoughtfully.

“What happened?” Liam asked, uncrossing her arms. Zayn looked at her from his safe distance and looked away.

“I saw some work of hers… I guess, personal things I shouldn’t have seen.” Her wide hands met in front of her and squeezed tightly in uncertainty, her feet shuffling backward.

“Like what?” Niall asked the question that Liam or Zayn wouldn’t.

“Design.” Harry blurted out. She felt the sickly shame blossom thickly in her abdomen and but the weight of worry on her head drove her speech. Louis had been gone for days.

“Design?” Zayn’s face twisted in angles of disbelief.

“Yes.” Harry nodded, “Clothes. She must have put it together, it was in her writing.”

All was quiet. Liam’s mouth was stuck open, Niall’s brows high up. Zayn stared at Harry but the disbelief was gone and replaced with some kind of low burning. Something dark was passing in his mind and Harry looked at it, seeking a link. Zayn wouldn’t meet her eyes or Liam’s.

“I don’t… I don’t think any of us knew anything about that.” Liam murmured quietly, back to her level head. “I don’t know about that… But, Louis went to see her mother and sisters. That’s not unusual… She goes often, she stays for a few days and returns. She’ll come back.”

Harry looked at her, maybe for something more. Something to settle this confusion. She looked at Zayn. Something to explain this black fire that passed between him and Louis. He looked at Niall. A semblance of coolness to remind her this didn’t matter that much.

Nothing.

\--

Zayn crossed his arms, his face set hard against Liam’s stare. He didn’t want to be standing here in the room with her, not with his head burning like this. He missed when he and Liam could be friends, when he could sling his arm around her shoulder and make jokes, when he could reel her in from a night of overwrought inequity and there be nothing more between them than possibility.

He could feel the air between himself and her like a couple steps that it would take to fit his arms around her – perfect fit.

It was so much easier to keep platonic when he wasn’t upset.

“You didn’t know she was designing?” Liam’s body was hard and he saw the lines of  _ business  _ there. This wasn’t a conversation she was going to have where she was Zayn’s friend again, it was one where she was going to keep him at arm’s length while she sorted out a problem of Louis.

“No, it’s not my obligation to know.” Zayn hissed at her, his slight frame hunched in discomfort as he paced a few steps.

“I figured you might.” Liam put a hand on her hip, “Maybe she’d talk to you about it. She’s closer to you than me. Different.”

“No.” Zayn muttered. He stopped his pacing, his hands still at his sides. “Anything she tells me is because I don’t ask questions.”

“She’s gotta talk to someone, Zayn.” Liam huffed out, giving him a tired look.

“And that’s my job?” Zayn rounded on her, eyes sharp and narrow. “She talks to her mother. Always. That’s never going to change.”

“That’s the problem.” Liam said, “That’s not going well… She’s upset about her mum… I can tell.”

“Shit…” He shook his head. Zayn growled low like a snake after a minute of quiet. “I didn’t fucking know she was designing though.”

“And?” Liam gave her a slight look, suspicious.

“And, she said she managed…. She never told me she would do anything more.”

“But you knew she wanted to design.” Liam’s voice cunning in the still air. “We both guessed.”

“Yeah, but she’d never do it.” Zayn snapped.

“And you’re any better?” Liam barked, her warm brown eyes wounding Zayn and igniting that heat.

“No!” Zayn shouted, facing her. His voice was loud but succeeded quickly by stillness. He burned quietly before her and she kept her shoulders square.

“It’s alright, Zayn.” Liam murmured, “It’s not like she’s going to publish any of it. You can keep hiding together, then.”

Zayn’s stomach rolled with anger, tempestuous anger, then he lost fight and rolled his eyes. He left.

\--

Harry looked up when Louis strolled into the room where she sat with Niall and Zayn. She was in boots, thin and sleek in make but steady. Harry’s wide eyes stuck at her. She felt Zayn and Niall looking at her. They were all such good actors, Harry discovered in surprise. Their eyes were perfect, polite, and hiding their own interest and involvement. It was almost a formality. As if everyone knew what they were thinking but a perfect posture made it strangely ineffectual.

Louis strode over to them, looking well placed under the rich ceiling lights, her gate like that of a snow leopard. Her eyes were like the others. Actors, each of them. Nothing that hid under the surface was in play while placed under that politeness. That posturing. Yet, she looked like a woman with a plan that targeted Harry as she closed the distance. Harry’s body tensed in the span of a second and Louis’ hand was in her hair, grip taught so that it kept her still. She kissed Harry, one unmoving kiss, and patted the side of Harry’s head before leaning back.

It was almost a welcome back kiss. In posturing.

She looked at the others with no guile in her smile and they met her eyes unflinchingly.

“Are we ready, then?” Louis tipped her head.

“Yep.” Niall stood, “We’ll meet Liam on the way, or something?”

“She’s busy actually, you know how early she prepares for tests.”

Harry felt like her skin had turned to plastic and her muscles were calcifying, too. But she could still stand and follow Louis.

The strange sensation reached her, of being underwater, wondering if anyone could see her, and if they could, why did they not speak.

\--

Louis was far away many weeks, even when she was not physically gone she was not near. Harry couldn’t be sure how to react to this. Whether to pull her closer or leave her, after the injuries Louis had given her she couldn’t be definitive so she left her.

There was no way to know if anything was particularly wrong, but there was a way, for all of them, to know that Louis wasn’t with them. Her face was always perfect, her disappearances more frequent.

\--

Harry lay panting in the bed, her muscles so overwrought it was going to a moment before she could possibly stand herself up and leave.

She breathed through her nose, swallowing, her face against the sweat-touched sheets of Louis’ bed. She hated how comfortable this bed was – very comfortable, good sheets, never made rightly, in the corner, a few feet from the double glass doors, a damn good bed. Mostly she knew she liked it so much because it meant Louis was paying attention to her.

And here she was, knelt on the bed with breaths far more controlled than Harry’s. Harry was limp on her side, Louis sat back on her heels, her hands in the bed on either side of Harry’s hips. She was staring at her, with wolf’s eyes. Harry blinked and looked up at her, slowing her breathing some.

Louis watched her, breathing in conforming pulses, her eyes wild with exertion. She didn’t look kind, so Harry looked down at her hand where it placed itself in the sheets beside her. She traced the veins trailing over her bones and up into her arm. Her skin was sweaty. Her fingers probably still taste like slick from Harry’s hole and sweat.

She looked back up at Louis because this was her continuous crippling. It’s hard to look away.

Louis stared at her, making sure she was finished and exerted. Harry was quite sure if she stirred or showed signs of not being exhausted of drive to have any sex, or perhaps so much as to move, Louis would leap at her and press her on the bed, fuck her until she was making sounds that had no semblance of control. Until she’s done. She knows.

And if she could move, she would. Because looking up at Louis now she knows this wasn’t about sex or even spending time together. It’s about this part, where Harry has to walk weak-legged to the door and look fucked in her skin and her hair. The part where Louis knows she had control over this.

Fortunately, this is a new development and it’s infrequent. Otherwise Harry might stop undressing around her. On the other hand, who knows.

\--

Harry stood on the balcony of a campus building, an unnecessary building in her opinion. They already had a grand library, this one was just for extra effect.

Liam was tense as she shadowed Louis.

“Louis, you’re being unreasonable.” Liam huffed, her brown eyes were stern and hard but they could never be whole hearted stone. Not like Louis could.

“I’m not. Actually, I’m doing what my job is. Part of which is to decide for myself when I’m being reasonable. I’ve never accepted every designer that throws themselves at me, nothing about that has changed. I’m not managing shit lines.” She snapped at her.

Liam’s fists were clenched and the stress Louis was giving her was becoming visible. Harry could feel Zayn’s distaste in the way his face became quieter and less expressive, his eyes looking anywhere but Liam.

“Yes, Louis, but that was  _ money _ that you just turned down.” Liam’s hands expressed her words in the air between them, eyes boring into hers. “More money than  _ plenty _ of designers have brought before, all of them you accepted.”

“I accepted them because they were  _ good _ !” Louis snapped, no friendly discussion in her voice for her friend. It seemed Liam was an assistant now, before anything else, and both of them knew it. Liam didn’t back down.

“This isn’t about good lines, Louis. That’s respectable of you, but you’re making bad financial decision now, one that you can still reverse, Jameson wants to be walked. You’re just turning down money now.”

Louis seemed to be elevated by Liam’s word, like a god she swelled, fueled by war.

“I’ve  _ got  _ money.” Louis spoke, something hot in her eyes and satisfied, but her posture was relaxed and unconcerned. “That’s why this works. That’s why I’m the one deciding who’s worth walking. Because I hire them, and you.”

Liam’s jaw set hard and she swallowed down some equal and opposite reaction to those words. Harry saw the muscle in Zayn’s arms strain at their skin and tendons. Something told Harry that she wouldn’t be likely to see Zayn confront Louis when he thought she was wrong in something, for a lot of purposes, that’s what Liam is for.

“Louis, you’ve been selective before.” Liam spoke. Her voice was calm but something told Harry her stomach muscles were taut and hot. “And that’s been what makes you successful, the money that lets you be picky. But this is started to be precarious. I know these numbers. And I normally don’t interject on these sorts of things. Because they’re dangerous but good decisions… Now… stopping these kinds of mistakes is what I went to school for.” She lifted her hands, palm up as she spoke.

“Yes, it’s why I keep you around.” Louis murmured, Ares still in her eyes. “Because you do a good job. And I can listen to you. But you underestimate the room I have for decisions. I’ve got plenty of it to grow. I’ll keep walking good designers, thanks. Next time, you’ll listen when you’re told no.”

Liam’s eyes burned low and she shook her head, turning away from her silent.

Louis looked so comfortable, Harry wondered how she had no qualm in quarreling like this.

“I’m sure there’s about to be plenty more money to go around, anyways.” Louis muttered, leaving Liam one last conquering look and turning to leave.

When the words were out of her mouth, her eyes had turned shade to something subdued and resigned.

Liam was quiet for a while, probably tempering a measure of anger before speaking. She made her way to where Zayn and Harry sat, leaning her hands against the railing of the balcony, her body sloped forward.

“Jesus, I wish she’d just start her own fucking line.” Liam heaved.

“Maybe she thinks she’ll be on the other end of it.” Zayn spoke, his fists still curled up loosely, but he looked up at Liam, now. “Instead of turning other people down,” His voice lowered, “Maybe it’ll be her.”

Liam looked up from her hands, her brow creased and her eyes narrowed incredulously at Zayn. She stood up straight, facing him and making Harry lean back subconsciously.

“Then she’s a fucking coward.” Liam shook her head, eyes unbelieving. “It’s not supposed to be easy, Zayn. If she’s that scared of being turned down then she’s going to be too weak to do it either way. She’s just going to have to grow up and do it,  _ Zayn. _ ”

Zayn’s jaw clenched, his eyes only just wide. Liam’s brown eyes were hot. Zayn’s brown eyes were torrential.

Liam closed her eyes and rubbed them with her fingers, it seemed Louis had thrown her through such a wire that she’d not even put on her makeup as she usually did. Like a physical defiance of anyone who doubted what she could handle, that make up and poise was an assurance that: yes, she could handle it.

Now she seemed to withdraw from Zayn, before he could stand and leave or fight. She escaped through the same door Louis had, with less conquering in her wake but just as steady.

\--

They left each other alone for many weeks and Harry spent her free hours with Zayn, Niall, even Liam when she wasn’t working. When Louis showed up Harry greeted her as politely as the rest of them and was given the same in return.

For now, however, she’d graced Harry with her return. Harry tried not to think about it. Because if she did then she would pull away like some waking up to find a snake beside them. She didn’t want that.

It’s too nice here.

Louis wore sweats and a hoodie, her glasses on. Harry kept looking at her, her eyes growing intense light and thinking strange thoughts.

Like;  _ how is this happening. Why is she here now. Where is she when she’s gone. Is this going to suddenly end. Why am I seeing this. _

And as always, the immobilizer;  _ Beautiful. Home. _

The nature documentary was playing on the screen and Louis was glancing at Harry, breathing out slowly at her gaze, looking back at the TV. Harry looked back too, listening to the pretty violins coming from the speakers.

This is ephemeral and imperfect, and if Harry thinks about it then she will grow bitter. So she continues to practice ignorance.

\--

Harry is in a ridiculously over flamboyant bathtub. In Spain. Somehow all of the excess made Harry even more foggy and sad.

Louis stepped into the bathtub with Harry, though, and she couldn’t focus on that. It was so, so distracting. So distracting.

It began to grow tiring. If she could just work out why she felt bad, again… maybe things would change.

Louis sat into the warm water, smiling at her. Harry leaned against the marble back of the basin and sighed out, her shoulders soft. Louis crawled toward her, the water lapping at her sides and her chest, her arms. Harry’s mouth twitched in a sad smile at it, at her mischievous, pleased face.

“You alright, Haz?” Louis hums, leaning into her and brushing her nose against her chin.

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs, “Tired.”

Louis sits down in front of her on her feet, pulling her legs up around her hips and legs. She leaned in to kiss her lips and move over her, kissing her shoulders and chest. Then she leaned back and cupped hands of water to rub over her shoulders and neck.

Harry is sad. She picks up a handful of hot water to put on her face and hide any blood in her cheeks or weariness. This is sad because she loves this woman and can’t stop Louis when she pulls her close, their bodies together, and kisses her. It’s easier to be sad when her tongue provides warm, soft comfort. She’s sad because she knows she’s not going to feel good again after this, for a long, long time.  

When Louis kisses her it seems for a moment that she forgets to reserve herself. Her body leans all the way into her and she’s slow, and mindless, and blind; she kisses so honestly and presses their chests together. She noses against her face, nuzzling kisses in places that are too  _ loving _ for what Harry can stand without any more. So her eyes water and she looks upward, closing her eyes and reaching a wet hand up to rub her cheek and disguise this want for more. Because Louis isn’t willing to give her anymore and if she knew, then she would withdraw completely. It should be the right thing to do but Harry’s mind feels weak and confused every time her heart steps in.

\--

“It’s just to promote a new designer that I like.” Louis speaks, making eye contact and looking bright and kind so that Harry concedes to Louis’ strange urge to hire a photographer to shoot her in a friend’s designs.

“Okay.” Harry nodded. If she said no, it would create more contrition than saying yes.

So here she is, stepping uncomfortably into the hot light of the set. The photographer likes her and he speaks it.

Harry sits on the stool, in Louis’ friend’s clothes…

Her face feels blank because she can hardly think of much to say. The photographer keeps going, and Harry knows it’s on her face, how strange she feels. And Louis doesn’t call any of it off, instead, she hands Harry a leather collar.

Harry’s mind is blank and she puts it on, while the camera continues and Louis’s face tells all.

She likes these photos and she’s going to use them to give publicity to her designer.

Harry sits still and good, because she gets some kind of pleasure in giving something to Louis, and because her mind is blank at this point.

But when she sits up and has to take the collar off herself, she raises her eyes to look at Louis and her brow creases briefly. Because she sees her; uncaring. Whether because she’s oblivious or because she lacks empathy, there isn’t any compassion there and there won’t grow any.

She breathes shallow on the way home and doesn’t contact her again.

\--

“You didn’t answer your phone.” Louis says as she stands at Harry’s door.

“I – I know.” Harry murmurs.

“I texted you.” Louis tilts her head, calculating. “You didn’t respond.”

“I know.” Harry nods.

“Do you not want to come over?” Louis lifts her head and stares at her head on. Harry’s heart started to beat, thumping healthy in her chest. The knee jerk reaction to grab onto Louis and hold on staggers her for a second, don’t let her walk out. Then her mind clears.

“I can’t.” Harry breathes.

Louis keeps staring at her, her eyes narrow and widen, processing. Adding, dividing, understanding.

“Tell me…” Louis murmurs, low and breaking on Harry’s skin like quiet suns, “now, if something is wrong.”

Harry’s throat closes, somewhere in the back of her mind there’s a bound animal trying to escape.

“I just won’t... Won’t.” Harry mumbled.

Louis takes a step backward and keeps looking at her, eyes still. There’s something going on behind them but not enough. Not enough to break free and change a living thing.

“Okay.” Louis says, her voice flat. Unaffected. She turns away and is out of sight before Harry has the neural capacity to shut the door.

She stands there staring at it for too long.

\--

Harry is sitting at the desk in her flat, with one elbow propped onto the wood of the table and her head leaned against her hand. Her forehead was pressed against her palm, her eyes undercut by the dragging on of sallow, blue swings. Her eyes ached a bit, but she wouldn’t look away from the computer. It was her portfolio. Always, these days. All these days.

She put it together and kept working,  _ until it’s perfect – it has to be perfect to matter. _

Maybe it would get her a job that would set her free from one silent night after the other. Coffee doesn’t smell as good as people say it does, it’s hard and grating and unfeeling if inanimate organisms could feel.

Harry’s phone rings. She listens for a moment, wondering if it’s her mother. She lifts her forehead off her hand, the skin tacky and sticky.

Pulling the phone to her, she saw the ID.  _ Zayn. _

Firstly, she wonders why she never entered his last night, or it’s initial. They’re not really close enough for first names in the contact list, were they?

She picks it up.

“Hello?”

“Harry?” Zayn speaks.

“Yes.” Harry frowns.

“Are you busy?” Zayn’s voice is low, and always blunt to the point of underselling.

“It’s been four weeks.” Harry mumbled, too tired to speak properly.

Zayn is quiet for a few moments. “Yeah,” He murmurs. “Niall is in the hospital.”

“Where?” Harry’s eyes narrowed and she rubbed her face stiffly. Standing unsteadily from her uncomfortable chair. Her hips and ass and legs and back are strained from the position.

“Med district, A Building.” Zayn answers, perpetually underwhelming. “Just map it and ask the reception for us.”

“Okay.” Harry says. “Is he dying?”

“No, he’s stable.” Zayn murmurs under his breath. “He’ll be out in a day. He just wants you here.”

“Okay.” Harry nods to herself, pulling on the last of her shoes.

\--

Harry made her way down the hallway, determinedly thinking not of going to Louis.

She kept her thoughts on Niall down the sterile scented halls, past the nurses in scrubs and the doctors who went so long to school to know the answers.

She found the room and with little more than a tense jaw, opened the door and stepped inside.

Niall was laying in the bed with a few needles in him but little to show, of significance, from whatever had put him here. The most noteworthy difference being the display of unhappiness on his face.

On either side of him were Zayn and Liam. Harry looked over Liam. She was wearing sweatpants – and a bun. She stood beside Niall with her arms crossed and a crease in her brow, that handsome face lowered with worry and little defeat.

Zayn on the other side leaned his hands against the back of a chair and looked from Niall – worry, guilt – to Liam – conflict, anger, wanton.

And Louis – Louis, Louis – against the wall, away from the others but not quite in a corner. Her face was an even mantel of some kind of friction, maybe anger. Her brow even.

Always so hard and apart from the people closest to her.

Harry wondered, looking at her now, what it would be like to see her for one second beside her mother and sisters.

“Hey, Niall,” Harry hummed, making her way to his bedside. She reached for the chair Zayn leaned against and he lifted off of it, hovering a few paces closer to Louis.

Sitting down she leaned her forearms against Niall’s bed, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Hey,” Niall spoke. His voice was scratchy and, actually, not so bright.

“So.” Harry looked at him and then around at Liam and Zayn, and Louis who had already looked away from her before they made eye contact. “What happened?”

Liam looked like she refused to answer and Zayn made no change, but Niall spoke before anyone else did.

“I fucked around with drugs.” Niall answered. Harry looked at him, her mouth open. To Niall’s credit, he returned her gaze despite the amount of disappointment and guilt in his face.

“Again.” Liam blurted out quietly, the sound seemed to make Zayn twitch.

“Yeah.” Niall raised his eyebrows faintly.

“You’ve been taking pills?” Harry’s brow creased.

He shrugged, “Among others.”

“When?” She shook her head stupidly. Niall finally smiled.

“Every day?” He lifted a few tired fingers, “More, recently.”

“Shit.” Harry mumbled, looking at him. “You’re very… discreet.”

“Quite.” Liam’s face tightened in a shadow of a sneer.

“Sorry.” Niall’s lips pursed softly and they were quiet as he and her let it be so.

“Yeah…” Harry finally said under her breath, shaking her head gently.

“What brought that on?” She asked.

“I’ll tell you later if you’ll come back around more.” Niall answered and Harry felt like her inner ear felt Louis’ nails dig into her biceps.

“Okay.” Harry nodded, reaching forward to put a hand on his arm.

They were quiet and Harry rubbed her hand up and down his arm a few times, patting him. Louis grit her teeth somewhere in the background.

“Thanks for coming.” Niall mumbled, swallowing and blinking at her hand.

“You called.” She said.

“Yeah.” He exhaled.

Zayn sighed and straightened up, reaching forward to pat Niall’s leg.

“I’m going home, Ni.” Niall nodded and murmured his okay, “Do you want to come, Louis?”

Before Louis could answer Liam uncrossed her arms, “I’m going alone, then?”

“It’s what you want isn’t it?” Zayn snapped.

“Fuck you.” Liam ground out through closed teeth, her eyes closed to give her the visage of holding back more than she let drag out of her chest.

Zayn stared at her with a tiger’s hard eyes and a dragon’s coiled muscles.

“Can we really not be in the same car together?” Liam grit.

“Can’t have fucking everything.” Zayn raised his hands, “I can’t do that.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Liam’s arms quivered briefly with their own tension, “Fuck you.”

“Jesus, Liam.” Zayn shook his head and mashed the heel of his hand over his forehead.

“Guys.” Niall shifted and Louis pushed off the wall.

“Why don’t you both go home, and fight on the way?” Louis growled between them and glanced at Niall to make her point.

Liam stared at Zayn for a moment with calcified honey eyes.

Somehow her eyebrows raised just a fraction at him and she turned her back to him, leaving the room. Zayn took one hesitant step and looked after her closing door.

Louis pushed him impatiently and he ran to catch the door before it closed.

In the silence, Louis leaned forward and ruffled Niall’s hair to tell him goodbye. She told him she’d see him tomorrow and started to leave.

Harry stared after her, green eyes wide.

Niall’s hand shifted and when their eyes met he glanced to the door for just a second.

“Um,” Harry mumbled, standing. “Goodnight, Niall.”

“See you then, Harry.” Niall murmured and just as she opened the door, “Good luck.”

Harry strode down the hallway and turned to see Louis at the elevator. Her shoulders to her knees were sunken, her whole profile was so weighed down that Harry stumbled to a pause.

Louis looked up to her and her eyes hardened, her head lifting and her spine straightening. Harry’s eyes tracked those little movements.

“What?” Louis clipped.

“What?” Harry’s eyes narrowed, “What? Nothing I just came to...”

“Right.” Louis’ tired eyes looked up and away and pulled her hands from her pockets.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Louis, are we strangers now? Enemies?” Her heart picked up and she couldn’t think as fast as her mouth moved.

“Yes.” Louis snapped, staring at her. “That’s what you did!”

“No!” Harry stepped towards her until she could look down at her and say, “No. You were a stranger before I did anything to make you an enemy. Because you wanted to be.”

“Don’t you fucking do that.” Louis faced her, shoulders square, “You don’t know me.”

“You’d rather I didn’t. That’s the point. But I know something, no thanks to you.” Harry shook her head, speechless for a moment.

“You know, Louis – fuck – you don’t have to make things this way.”

“What way.” She breathed, like the steel infrastructure of a tower emitting an unheard breath of sound as it swayed in the wind.

“You know what way! Lonely!” Harry snapped. Louis stared at her, her face empty. “It’s not like people are just going to end up in your life forever, they don’t have to. If you push them out, eventually there won’t be anyone there and if you’re lonely it’s only because you made it that way. You’re going to need someone. I know shit is fucked up. I know, and you’re not even letting your allies be your allies.”

She breathed heavy. Louis watched her like a statue until the elevator door opened and broke the stillness. She turned away and rushed into it, making sure to close to door. Harry watched her, where she stood with a mask on. An imperfect mask. Until the door closed.

_ Savages. _ She thought.  _ Each of us are savages grasping for love. All of us are just lying to each other, elevated on these fucking pedestals. It’s not true, it’s lie. We’re just savages trying to get to something real. _

\--

Harry sat on the door in front of the couch, leaning against it with Niall to her right. There he sat with her back to the couch as well. And his boy-god face was sodden with honesty.

“Glad you’re back around.” Niall mumbled, “For now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He took a drink of water and started tearing apart some stupid, expensive sort of food. “Shit’s weird without you.”

“Shit seems weird with me here.” Harry shook her head.

“I know.” Niall looked at her. “We’re fucked up.”

And Harry looked back at him, quietly, for a minute.

“Why?” She sighed, brow creased. She asked the question meaninglessly.

“Because… Everyone just… wants shit and it’s hard not to.”

“Is that why you overdosed?” Harry asked and her voice was hard on the word, because it is a battle word.

“Yeah.” Niall murmured, “I just… I know I’m lucky, I can play well. Great. I just… you know, can’t make anything. Can’t write music.”

He shrugged and looked away, “I know it’s stupid. I know. I just wanted to make something, you know. Just playing other people’s work wasn’t enough and I wanted to say something, be something more. Do something. Maybe I can, it just never feels right. But plenty of people have tried really hard to get where I am, so…”

Harry looked away to the window in the wall, not thinking for a moment.

She crossed her arms and breathed out heavy and long, leaning against his shoulder.

“Don’t do that shit again, Niall.” She sighed, “Please.”

Niall huffed out a laugh, “Alright.” His boy-god’s head leaned against hers and they waited a moment to turn on the TV and watch something quiet and boring to pass the time.

\--

“I want this to work.” Zayn breathed, straining quietly. “I don’t want it to be like… just another failure. Another one that didn’t work.”

“I want it too.” Liam whispered, looking at him.

“And?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” She sounded so tired.

“Are we giving up?” Zayn asked into the silence and the silence remained. “Yet?”

The silence broke, “Not yet.” She huffed, smiling weak and poisoned.

\--

Harry woke up to her phone vibrating and rolled over, eyes bleary and hardly open. Her face crimped with sleep as her long arm reached her phone and turned it to her.

_ Louis Tomlinson _

Harry’s brow evened its wrinkle and she pushed herself onto an elbow, fumbling to answer. She put the phone to her ear, pushing herself into sitting position.

“Louis?” Harry scraped, and Louis breathing stuttered on the line.

“Harry.” She stated, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Can you meet me?”

“Uh.” She paused, blinking out sleep. “Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll pin my location.” And she hung up.

Her text came in fast with her location and Harry let it log itself into a navigational system while she pulled on haphazard clothing and left into the early, early morning darkness.

\--

The cab pulled onto the side of the road and Harry stepped out onto familiar ground. A place where Louis liked to be. An in between place, just a stop on the road, where it was quiet. They’d been here before.

“Louis?” Harry asked as the sleek, vintage car opened up and she stepped out.

“Hey.” Louis’ voice scraped over the night. It was thick. And marred with a defended honesty that set the hair on her arms on end.

There in the night, the stars still shone overhead, bright enough to ignore the lights coming from the valley below. The moon was waxing close to full, shining down on the gleaming edges of the car where Louis stood beside. The wind brushed against them both. Zephyr.

And Louis wore Adidas sweatpants, a black hoodie, and nothing on her feet.

“Where were you at?” Harry asked, looking her over. “Just… go for a drive?”

Louis’ arms moved together as if to cross but then fell again.

“No, I – I was at my mother’s.” The words balded the air between them so that there was little to be said into it.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Louis blurted out. “About all that… Shit I did. I’m still confused but I know I made you feel bad. Really bad and I didn’t care, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t care. I just…”

“Used me.” Harry mumbled.

“Used you.” She deflated.

“Okay.” Harry nodded after a few moments.

“Remember when I yelled at you?” Louis said. Harry nodded.

“I was angry that you saw those things. It wasn’t your fault.” Louis mumbled and waited, “Shit, Harry, you just scare me.”

Louis lifted her hands to wipe at her eyes, her sleeves over her palms as both hands swiped once at her raw face.

“I scare you?” Harry’s voice wavered unhappily.

“Yeah.” She dropped her hands, “You do exactly what you want and you just – make what you want. Those pictures you take… I don’t get it sometimes. And the way you talk, the way you look at us – at me. You might not make it with your photography and you still just… keep doing it. Those things. I get confused.”

Harry stared at her, and Louis breathed raggedly. The crickets echoed ceaselessly beside them.

“Louis…” Harry stepped toward her. “Damnit…”

“Sorry.” She said again, her chest emptying with another too filled breath and her shoulders limp like they kept going these days. “Sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, and she lifted a hand to touch her arm. “Tonight?” She added in a whisper.

Louis’ person, from her inside to out, shoulders to hands, to the air around her seemed to quaver and then she shook her head.

“No.” She closed her eyes and lifted her hands to her face, shaking her head.

Harry took her shoulders in her hand and pulled her to her side, lowering them both down onto the fine gravel beside the car. She sat them down, leaning against the side and listened to Louis’ breathing lose form as she gasped and leaned her elbows against her knees where she sat crisscross, her face buried in her hands. In front of them, to one side the empty road stretched away, the same one Louis had goaded Harry into racing. To the other side was the guard rail and brush that ringed the gravel resting spot, the breeze bending the plants and the sky outlining the crown of leaves. Just a quiet night. Dark and cool.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked helplessly, one hand on her arm.

“She’s just dying.” Louis cried into her hands. “Mom. I’m so confused and everything’s so fucked and I can’t talk to her about it now, she’s gonna die.”

Harry stared at her profile where she curled in on herself, breaking into her wet palms.

“Louis.” She whispered but the sound only made her cry more. Her hand squeezed mindlessly tighter on her arm and Louis lifted her face from her hands leaning her body back against the car and crying quietly to the stars.

Harry slid her arm across her front and against her ribs to pull her body against her and Louis went with her, wrapped a weak arm around her shoulders, leaning her heavy head against hers. Harry held on with both arms and listened to her breathing unsteady in her ear.

“I’m sorry.” She said, to her, sure that she would sit here with her until she was ready to stand again.

She did, and she drove Louis home in that car, slow. Brought her to her flat and to her bed, tucking herself into the couch until her mind finally stopped.

\--

Days following were quiet between so many of their exchanges, all of them. Niall was indefinitely confined to a quiet life, it seemed, after his personal event. Between Zayn and Liam it seemed they were unsteady molecules, circling each other. No longer the atoms that constantly consumed and combusted each time they neared each other – volatile - they came to the same table without their weapons now, at the least. Harry didn’t know if the potential of the two of them would ever be met but here, at least, was armistice. Comradery.

Louis… Harry could never put a name to her. Quiet, though she was.

This morning, Harry lay in her bed, the outside of the bed. Louis against the wall, she was without a shirt on. Just the sheet lay over her back, the air in the room was warm. The doors to the balcony were open and though soft air flow in, still the warmth kept.

Harry began to wake up, blinking at the light from the open doors. She took a deep breath in and looked to where Louis was. She could smell her scent, the first thing that blossomed, inconspicuously, into her consciousness.

The scent of her body lay around her. In her sleep, as things often do, the smell of it seemed so everlasting and encompassing. Just her scent and little else, her mind made it seem like a house. Home. No perfume, no soap. Just her.

She looked at Louis for so long, laying there.

Honesty was so strange and right on her. So beautiful.

Harry’s hand shifted toward the side of the bed before she thought of it and a new thought bloomed, early morning half sleeping thought, in her mind. She moved so slow, as photographers sometimes do, and slid from the bed. Then she moved so fast, as photographers sometimes do, and made to her overnight bag across the room. She pulled her small camera from the bag. The old one that took good photos but was durable enough to take along in her bag.

She had brought the camera, had begun to recently unlike before, to Louis’ house because she thought somewhere in her mind that this might happen. Now, like it wouldn’t before.

She sidled up beside the bed and knelt on the ground. The camera to her eye, she put the settings on manual so that she could do what she liked. She was careful to quickly put the settings correctly so that she would make less noise with troubleshooting and get a correct shot quicker.

What she knew of photographing anything, is that all life is ephemeral. If not acted upon immediately the shot will be lost. Still, she felt peaceful. Somehow assured that Louis wouldn’t move just yet.

She took a picture. And then a few more, adjusting settings a few times. And she didn’t shift her angle or try anything new, simply stayed where she knelt. She looked down at her last shot and just stared at it because this was the right one.

She hadn’t felt that feeling in months.

Louis breathed in a little deeper and her arm slid across the sheets in front of her, lengthening out before her. Her body was stiff as she shifted and her brow creased; slowly, slow, waking up.

She lifted her head and opened her eyes to see Harry. She blinked confusedly at her.

“Haz?” She rasped.

“Yeah.” She looked back at her.

“You’re on the ground.”

“Oh.” She smiled, “Yeah.”

Harry crawled onto the bed and carefully sat down beside her form. Her camera rested in her lap. Louis looked at her for a few still waking seconds and then at the camera. She exhaled comfortably.

“Did you take a picture?” She asked.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Of me?” She looked up at her. Harry nodded again.

Louis looked back at the camera and then rubbed her eyes for a few moments. She gestured to the camera.

“Can I see.” She was already careful enough to guard her voice out of an open ended question. But Harry didn’t mind. She lay back into the pillows and Louis propped herself up beside her. Harry showed her the pictures and flicked from the first to the last, then settling on the best one.

She looked at Louis and saw her reactions flicker over her features.

“I’m not used to seeing that.” Louis murmured.

“You look good.” Harry replied honestly. And Louis thought about it for a moment, warily setting down the guard until she could nod and nod again at the photo.

Harry put the cap on the lens and lay her camera on the bed side table. Then she lay with Louis quietly as she awoke. She looked at her chest rise and fall, her fingers moving absently on her arms.

“Wanna play a song?” Louis requested quietly and Harry picked up her phone to let a song play quietly in the room. Louis sighed deeply and shifted comfortable, side by side with the arms against each other.

“Harry…” Louis mumbled, “My mother told me to ask you what you thought of my sketches. You know, the stuff in the drawer.” She nodded to the desk drawer.

Harry looked from the desk to her face, half shocked at the question. Louis wouldn’t meet her eyes and kept a carefully blank expression.

“The designs?” Harry asked and Louis nodded drily. “They’re good, Lou.” Harry huffed out a laugh and Louis looked at her, a half incredulous and confused expression on her face.

“They’re good.” She repeated, “Really good. They looked proper and… like an artist’s work. Like you had a plan. I felt the fabric and everything. I know it would be good if you made it.”

“You don’t know anything about design.” Louis narrowed her eyes at her and Harry’s expression flattened.

“Alright, fine. I’m just saying I think I’d like the clothes if you made them.” She raised a sardonic brow at her. Louis’ eyes flickered around, at the room, back to her, at her eyes, lips, to the desk, then back to her, calculating and slightly narrowed.

“Maybe I’ll take a class.” Louis whispered and it was just so, then she looked away from Harry and waited for a moment silently.

“You should.” Harry answered, steady.

Louis looked at her, quiet and unhidden, again. She looked away, nodding to herself. Harry could help rolling onto her side now and nuzzling her nose into Louis’ chest, rubbing her face with a silly grin against her collar, shoulder, sliding down to bite at her breast.

“Oi.” Louis growled gently, one hair tugging playfully at her curls.

Harry smiled happily.

\--

Days of working towards the end of her degree and sending her portfolio to those who she could left Harry exhausted, mainly because it had to be perfect. But it payed off.

One eventless morning, Harry work to her phone’s notification tone: an email. She woke herself comically, grasping for her phone blindly and bringing it to her face. This is how she discovered that she’d gotten the job. Not her first job, and not her last. But the kind she wanted.

She told Zayn, Liam, and Niall about the success. It would be a travel contract and she was to leave soon. She wondered every moment at how it had come to be.

Liam and Zayn seemed to be so happy that Harry caught Zayn’s hand resting on Liam’s back and she left it there.

That night, they celebrated and at the end of it Harry gravitated to Louis in her empty flat. She hesitated at the door, using just body language to ask the question.  _ Should I stay or should I go now… _

Louis let her stay, using just body language to say,  _ Come on. The bed is this way. _

Harry’s hands trailed along after her and she kissed fleeting stretches of skin and hair until Louis was departing them of clothes and they were falling into bed to forget themselves again.

Just hands and just mouths.

In a day she’d say goodbye to her, and she her; they would kiss again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at thisshipsailsitselff on tumblr, come talk if you want.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> glad to get this bullshit out of my system

In these articles, Zayn drops onto Louis’ desk, she flips through them with silent eagerness.

She’s a proper photo journalist.

The photos are familiar and they remind her, of Harry, of the shots she saw on that computer.

Long stretches of text detail nature and the planet, the effect of human life on earth, the animals and their stories. The life of the planet, and its story. How the scientists saw it. The cities and cultures that flourished and declined.

In between, above and below those texts, Louis saw photos taken by Harry. _(Photo’s by Harry Styles. 2017)_ Occasionally she brushed her fingers over that text.

But today, in this article, there was a special picture in the back. Harry was there.

She’s beautiful and as always so real. Louis is emboldened by this authenticity now and it makes her hands itch for her own work, these days. There she stands, backpack strapped to her, hiking boots in one shot. Sat on a boat in another shot, hair lifted around her face. Camera always over her torso.

Louis wants so badly that it kills to show these magazines to her mother.

Kills every day and rebirths, every day.

 

\--

 

Somewhere foreign, Harry is glued to a screen. Her green eyes wide in wonder.

She looks and looks at Louis’ designs.

They’re wonderful, and Harry can feel the bravery in her stomach in a wave as she looks at the clothes that Louis designed. Worn by her models. Walking the runway without shame or fear.

_Louis Tomlinson’s premier line, sweeping the floor and establishing what critics are excited to welcome as her career in design…_

_…perfectionistic to extremes, designer Tomlinson can be heard backstage meticulously managing her clothes’ presentation, saying as much as: “If there aren’t real flowers on this dress then it’s not walking.”_

_…up and coming artist Tomlinson will raise many voices in the field as she has before from supporters and critics alike. What we await to see, ultimately, is if this rising star becomes an established name in fashion. Tomlinson will be striving to set her name by the likes of Chanel, Armani, Cardin, Laurent, McQueen, Dior, Karan, Schiaparelli and more stars that never die._

Everything is there, all the designs that Harry found.

Among those she had yet to see, Harry spotted a piece professionally shot as the model reached the end of the runway.

The piece was simple, but inside the intricate stitching was unassuming hand embroidery.

_always in my heart, yours, sincerely_


End file.
